Lost Girls: Lost in the Woods
by Mistress Lust and Blood
Summary: Gretel and Goldilocks decide to stay at a luxurious forest inn owned by Little Red Riding Hood. The three women become friends and share stories of their sexual escapades through the years. An answer to Alan Moore's Lost Girls.
1. Evergreen Inn

_Author's Note: I have actually read Lost Girls by Watchmen writer Alan Moore. For those of you who don't know, it is a three volume set of graphic novels about Alice from Alice in Wonderland, Wendy from Peter Pan, and Dorothy from Wizard of Oz in their later years coming together at a hotel and sharing their teenage sexual experiences. Though many people claim it is art rather than pornography, I was disappointed to realize it really was just pornography, and really disgusting pornography at that. So this is my answer to how I believe Lost Girls should have been handled, only with different characters._

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The air was crisp with a slight chill. The fall season was almost in full swing. Even the leaves on the trees were beginning to change color. The sun shimmered on the morning dew, giving the forest a dazzling appeal. There was such peace amongst the trees. But it was broken for a moment by the small sound of a crystal wine glass being set down on a table.

A woman no older than thirty sat on her private second story balcony. She sat in a large wooded rocking chair, her feet propped up on the balcony's railing. Her milky skin almost shimmered like the dew on the ground. She was completely bare, aside from a very prominent red cape that laid over her shoulders. The hood had been drawn over her head. She looked out over the forest from her balcony. Her glass of water sat on the side table next to her though she continued to grip it as if it were the finest wine. She saved the best view of the forest for herself as well as the biggest balcony. When her inn was built, she paid special attention to secluding herself from the rest of the guests. The balcony and her room were located on the southern most end of the inn and had the most stunning view of the forest as well as the Scarlet River.

The woman sighed. Her thoughts ran deeply through her head. No smile adorned her lips but rather a mischievously flirty glare, like the eyes of a hungry wolf. She raised her crystal glass of water to her lips again and took a sip. The flavorless liquid was almost a disappointment, seeing how she fancied the sharp and sweet taste of a fine wine. It had been a while since she had decided to kick her old habit. But older habits still lived inside her, practically ingrained into her skin.

Her free hand wondered down in between her legs. She was dry and sore from the previous night. She contemplated rising and finding her jar of skin cream, but the morning sun felt too good on her nude torso. So despite her soreness, she rubbed herself gently. She fixated her thoughts on one of her common fantasies. Perhaps this would help to make her wet. But a biting thought flashed across her mind. Days of old periodically came back to haunt her, and they always ruined her fantasies. She stopped for a moment, letting her eyes focus on the distant Scarlet River.

"Madame Primrose," a voice said.

The woman looked over her shoulder. A maid stood in the doorframe.

"What is it, Helen," she asked.

"I am sorry to disturb you, but Mr. and Mrs. Worthington are leaving this morning and they request to see you at once."

"Tell them I'll be down soon," she stated.

The maid nodded her head in respect and left. The woman rose from the comfort of her rocking chair reluctantly. The wind picked up for a moment and blew the cape's hood down. It revealed a terribly beautiful young woman with chestnut hair and eyes as green as the forest. She walked back into her room untying the red cape as she walked. Once inside, she carefully laid the red cape on a chair, coddling it as tenderly as a newborn babe.

"Last night was quite fun, wasn't it," she said to it while picking out a dress. "I can't remember the last time it was as good. Just you and me."

She dressed herself decent enough, or as decent as an inn owner should appear to her guests. Locking her room door behind her, she practically floated down the hallways. She nodded to guests as she walked by them until she made her way to the lobby.

"There she is! The little woman that made our stay so very pleasant," a large man chortled as he saw her approaching.

"Good morning, Mr. Worthington. I trust your stay was to your satisfaction," she charmed him with a dangerous smile.

"Madame Primrose, your lovely inn rivals the very finest of Paris! If business did not call me elsewhere, I would be keen to stay another two weeks!"

"You flatter me, sir. It is always an honor to have a gentleman of your caliber as a guest," Madame Primrose curtseyed.

"Thank you again, Madame Primrose. But we must be off. You will see us again, I guarantee it," he said while sweeping away his wife.

Madame Primrose watched them leave with her wolfish stare. The door swung on its hinges but was immediately pushed back open. A head of raven hair caught Madame Primrose's eye. It was a new guest, a woman in her late twenties at least. She stepped into the lobby and looked around in awe of its splendor. The nearby bellhop looked her over to the same effect. She was small, though she carried herself with great confidence. Her black hair was left down, a most scandalous choice indeed. Some of the more refined guests walked past her in disgust, though she did not seem to notice or care. Madame Primrose smiled at this newcomer. It was not often you saw a woman quite as independent as that. She began moving closer. She passed by the woman. Leaning in, she said one thing as she went.

"Welcome to the Evergreen Inn..."


	2. Gretel

The coach ride was especially bumpy. The forest trail was paved with the rockiest of stones. But Gretel did not mind. She was never one to back down when perils came her way. Besides, she was too engrossed in the sights and sounds of the forest. She stuck her head out of the coach window to look around. The wind blew her long hair all about. She had let her hair down earlier that day despite the moral outrage of the other passengers on the train. The awful pain of hairpins poking into her scalp was an irritant she chose not to endure for long. She had also removed her corset and backed it in her trunk when no one was looking. Her figure was already curvy enough that it was hard to tell she was without one.

The forest was breath-taking. She noticed it smelled like the forests back home. She stuck her head out further and looked down the path in front of the coach. It was the hotel.

"Finally," she said happily.

She had heard so many wonderful things about the Evergreen Inn. Even though it looked like a giant log cabin, it was the best in American hospitality and refinement. It was one of the few buildings in America that had indoor plumbing, a very new concept and a fascinating one at that. Gretel watched with bated breath as the inn drew closer and closer.

The coach pulled up in front of the inn. Gretel opened the coach door for herself, not bothering to let the footman do his job. She quickly ordered one of the attendants to remove her large trunk from the top of the coach and bring it inside. She could wait no longer. She practically rushed in, almost hitting a man and his wife leaving. Looking up at the marvelous decor, she stood in awe. There were log rafters and balconies, a giant stone fireplace, and cast iron chandeliers covered in buckskin and Native American drawings. Every detail was stunning and captured Gretel's imagination like nothing before. She looked around in a daze, not noticing the strange looks she was receiving from her fellow guests.

"Welcome to the Evergreen Inn."

It was as though the wind had spoken to her. The voice passed by her elegantly, and she only had enough time to see a woman with brilliant brown hair walk out the front doors. Gretel just shrugged and approached the front desk. The man standing there gave her a surprised stare when she stepped up. Her appearance was more than a little ragtag. Her dress was faded and worn and was much too short for her. Her ankles and stockings were on display for everyone to see, and her long raven hair hung loosely over her shoulders and down her back. For the time's standards, she looked positively trashy. But the deskman remembered his manners.

"Welcome to the Evergreen Inn, ma'am," he said, "Are you checking in?"

"Yes. It should be under Eberly... Gretel Eberly," she said to him in a thick German accent.

"Miss Eberly, you are booked to stay with us for one month. Is that correct?"

"Indeed it is."

He handed her her room key and watched her eagerly climb the nearest flight of stairs, a bellhop carrying her loaded down trunk behind her. She found her second story room and opened the door. The room was perfect. Her requested queen size bed lay untouched against the wall. She ran and jumped onto it, falling down on her back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Ma'am, here is your trunk," the bellhop finally caught up with her.

Gretel jumped up and reached for her handbag. She grabbed a disorganized wad of one dollar bills and handed it to him. "Thank you for your help."

He took the mess of money and turned to leave but received a swift slap on the behind. He let out a small yelp of surprise and looked over his shoulder, receiving a flirty wink from the woman. Utterly stunned by the lady's actions, he simply left in silence, unsure of how he should receive the strange interaction.

Gretel opened her trunk and immediately took out a tripod and a camera. "We are going to own this forest," she told it, fastening it to the tripod. "We'll make the most beautiful photos here."

She grabbed an exposure plate and the camera and headed for the balcony. She set the tripod up and adjusted the composition. The view was spectacular. She inserted the plate and looked through the viewfinder. She held her breath and pressed the button.

"Magic."


	3. A Thrown Knife

The glow of light from the inn windows provided a small ring of protection to those wondering just outside in the darkness. Only the very brave ventured farther into the woods, straying from the protection of the lights. Gretel stayed close to the inn, walking around by herself. She had had a full day of exploring every inch of the inn as well as some of the surrounding trails. The sun was just setting when she made it back. Now her mind wondered. The woods brought back many memories, the kind she wish she could forget at times. With the splendor and majesty of the woods came a hint of spookiness and uncertainty. Such poetic thoughts buzzed in her mind. She casually bent down and picked up a stone. She threw it down the path in front of her and watched it disappear into the darkness. She lost herself in her thoughts again and gingerly started moving farther down the dark trail, not meaning to stray too far from the inn.

A hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed her wrist. She screamed in fright, but a second hand covered her mouth. A well dressed man in his forties stepped up to her.

"I noticed your grand entrance into the inn this morning. I simply must have you."

Gretel twisted her wrist just so that it slipped out of his grip. She ran up the trail, hoping that someone would see her. But her assailant caught up and grabbed her wrist again, jerking her towards him. Gretel reared her free hand back and made it into a fist. She punched him swiftly across the face, making him cry out. But he did not release his grip. Instead, he returned the favor and struck her across the face as well. The force of it caused her to lose her balance and fall onto the gravel trail. The attacker wasted no time in his venture and pinned her beneath him.

Gretel struggled as best she could, but remained trapped. The man began undoing the front of her dress. She reached up, put both of her hands on his face, and tried to push him away. She screamed for help as loud as she could. But the attacker was undaunted. He finally ripped the top of her dress down, revealing her supple breasts. She screamed again, but to no avail. He reached down and grabbed one in his hand.

"Don't touch me, you dirty piece of shit!" She swore at him, hoping it would be heard.

He bent down and took her nipple in his mouth. He sucked it and bit it lightly.

"No! No!" She continued her cries for help.

He moved his attention to her lower regions. With great force, he grabbed her undergarments and yanked them around her ankles. He forced a hand up into the sea of petticoats that was her dress and he managed to find her womanhood. She threw her head back and cried out from the touch. His grubby fingers massaged her mound. He was disappointed that she was not nearly wet enough for his tastes.

"I think I should taste it."

No! No! Don't!" Gretel screamed. "I'll fucking kill you!"

The man bent his head down into her dress, searching for her warm spot. But he was not able to search for long. A jabbing pain in his left shoulder forced him to draw back violently. His sleeve had been neatly sliced open, also showing a terribly nasty flesh wound beneath it. He looked over at the tree behind him only to find a large dagger sticking out of the trunk, still vibrating from the impact.

Both the attacker and Gretel looked up the trail towards the inn. And standing not far from them was a chestnut haired woman holding her dress high enough to reveal a knife holder strapped to her thigh. The harness held one more dagger, ready to be thrown at any second.

The assailant got up to his feet and ran for his very life. The darkness and the forest seemed to swallow him whole. The dagger woman whistled loudly.

"Boris! Charles! Over here!"

Two of the inn's security immediately appeared at her side. She said something to both of them and they rushed off into the forest after the horrid man. Gretel sat up on her hands, having very little energy left after the whole ordeal. Her savior rushed to her side.

"My dear, are you alright?"

Gretel blinked a few times, trying to hold back her tears. She cleared her throat, looking straight down at the ground. "I suppose so. I am just tired."

"Can you get up?"

"I think so," she said, "with a little help."

The dagger woman grabbed both of Gretel's hands and pulled her to her feet with amazing strength. She adjusted Gretel's dress so it no longer revealed her bosom. With great care, she wrapped her arm around Gretel's waist and began leading her to the inn.

"You don't have to," Gretel choked out.

"I want to," she answered back, "It is a horrible travesty for such an event to happen on my property."

Gretel looked at the woman in surprise. Had she just been saved by the famous Madame Primrose? Before she knew it, they were inside and a strong, young bellhop had been recruited to carry her up the stairs. Madame Primrose led them to her secluded suite. They entered her room and the bellhop set Gretel down on a luxurious chaise longue. Primrose shooed him away and closed the door.

"How badly did he hurt you, my dear?"

"Not too badly. Though I am sure I will have a black eye by morning."

Primrose began drawing a bath in her tub. "I am afraid there is not a police force within miles of here. I shall send for them so they may come and gather their clues. But it might take a few days before they arrive."

Gretel stared at the floor, still going over the event in her head. "It was so quick. He appeared out of no where. I can barely remember his face."

"You are in shock. It is to be expected. Try to calm yourself."

Gretel was lifted to her feet again. Primrose led her to the bathroom, sitting her down on a chair. The tub was almost full, now filled with bubbles. Gretel breathed in heavily, smelling the sweet scent. It immediately relaxed her. A pair of hands began undoing the back of her dress.

"You don't mind, do you," Primrose asked.

"Not at all," she answered, letting the madame pull the dress over her head. She sat in her undergarments and petticoats, watching Primrose move about. "Are you Madame Primrose?"

"Indeed I am. Does that bother you?"

"No. In fact, it is an honor. I've read so much about the Evergreen Inn that I was hoping to meet the owner. I never thought I would, let alone be rescued by her."

Primrose pulled off Gretel's petticoats, putting them aside with the dress. "I did not know I had any amount of fame to proceed me. I usually leave the glory and glamour to the inn. I am quite the loner, if you could believe such a thing."

"I don't believe it," Gretel said as the madame lifted her undershirt above her head, averting her eyes appropriately. Gretel did not bother covering herself up, seeing how Primrose had already seen her back on the trail. And besides, they were both grown women, and it was perfectly alright for her to look at what she has already seen. Primrose pulled Gretel to her feet again.

"Magazines often boast of your parties and elegant soirees. You are quite the legendary hostess," Gretel stated as Primrose removed the last of her underthings.

"A lot of hot air from former guests," Primrose admitted while carefully helping Gretel into the bathtub. "Enough about me, darling. Just relax and wash. The bath will help your unwind. I'll be in the bedroom if you need anything."

Primrose turned to leave. "Madame Primrose..."

She stopped at the doorway and looked over her shoulder.

"Thank you... for everything," Gretel struggled to say.

Madame Primrose smiled. "Think nothing of it."


	4. Red

Gretel walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft bathrobe. The heat of the water soothed her so completely that she found new energy to dry and dress herself. The bath had also given her time to think. It had been a long time since she last cried, but the solitude of the bathroom provided her that one luxury. Her silent tears fell from her face and were lost in the bath water. But she forced herself to stop after a few minutes, focusing on scrubbing the filth from every inch of her body. And once she was satisfied with her cleanliness, she rose from the tub and wrapped herself in the most comfortable towel she had ever experienced.

Madame Primrose sat on the chaise longue reading a book. Gretel cleared her throat to get her attention. The madame looked over and smiled. "I am glad you found the robe."

"I should have asked before I used it. I'm sorry," Gretel apologized.

"Don't be silly, darling," Primrose stated. "You are a guest, and the guest is always right."

This made Gretel smile bashfully. Not many people treated her this kindly. She looked over at the clock on the wall. "Oh dear, it is very late. I have kept you up far too long."

Primrose smiled. "You do not know the meaning of the word _late_ until you become a business owner."

Gretel laughed lightly as the observation. She knew what the madame meant. "Still, I should return to my own room. Where is my dress?"

"I sent it off to be cleaned and repaired. It seemed to have gotten ripped in a few places during your encounter."

"It was ripped before that," Gretel stated.

Madame Primrose raised both eyebrows at the statement. She half smiled at the thought. "You are not like other women, are you?"

Gretel smirked. "I certainly hope not."

"May I offer you a nightgown for your trip down the hallway," the madame asked.

"No, the robe will do just fine. I could not take anything more from you," Gretel stated, "Though, it would set my mind at ease if you would escort me."

Primrose rose from her seat immediately. "Of course, my dear."

* * *

The two women walked down the hall together. Gretel held her robe closed and looked down at the floor as she walked, trusting the guidance of her hostess. She had so much to think about that she did not notice the awkward silence. Madame Primrose politely tolerated the quietness until her curiosity got the better of her.

"Your accent is very intriguing," she noticed.

"I am from Germany," Gretel answered, "Just outside of the Black Forest."

"Do these woods remind you of home?"

"In many ways..."

They reached their location. Gretel opened the door and stepped inside. "I want to thank you again," she said, turning around to wish Primrose goodnight, "Your hospitality is very moving."

"It's what I am famous for, apparently. Do meet me in the tea room for breakfast in the morning."

"Uh... certainly. What time," Gretel asked.

"No later than ten. Do not get up early on my behalf if you need more sleep. If you choose not to attend, I shan't be insulted."

"No, no... I'll be there. Breakfast will taste especially good in the morning."

"Splendid. Goodnight, dear Gretel."

"Goodnight, Madame Primrose."

"No no," Primrose corrected, "It's _Red_ among friends."

Gretel blinked at the name. "Oh, very well then. Goodnight, Red." She closed the door behind her and turned around, leaning against the door. She breathed in heavily, finding her encounter with Red a rather indulging experience, even under the circumstances. She took a few steps towards her bed, suddenly feeling her fatigue catch up to her. She poured herself into bed, not having enough energy to remove her robe or slip beneath the heavy covers. Sleep came almost immediately, and she drifted off into slumber.

Red walked down the hallway. She patted her thigh, feeling around for her remaining knife. It was still there. The act of saving someone laid a heavy tax on the rescuer as well. For the moment at least, she was jumpy. She stared down the hallway in front of her with her signature wolf stare. Her days of playing victim were long since past, and even in her own inn, she swore she would never become one again.

A young woman with beautifully curled golden hair walked down the hallway like she was lost. She met eyes with Red and nearly jumped out of her skin, even letting out a small yelp.

"Oh! Do forgive me! My nerves are a little on end," the blonde said.

"Is there something I can do for you, ma'am," Red asked sincerely.

"It's terribly embarrassing. I forgot which room was mine and I just heard about the horrible attack on that young woman. Needless to say, I feel very skittish."

"Come with me, my dear. I will help you," Red stated.


	5. Goldy

A coach pulled up in front of the hotel. The footman jumped down from his perch and opened the coach door with great grace. A woman stepped out of the vehicle, though most observing her arrival only noticed her brilliant head of hair. Her golden locks were as yellow as corn or a windy field of wheat. Her curls were the very definition of perfection, pinned beautifully behind her head and made to bounce with her steps. An older woman watched with mad envy as the young creature entered the inn lobby. The blonde woman approached the front desk.

"I am here to check in," she told the deskman.

"Your name, ma'am," he asked.

"Locks, Goldy Locks," she replied.

It took much self control for the desk clerk to withhold a laugh at the irony of her name. Her most prominent feature was hard to miss, and hers was a fitting name to accompany her stunning appearance. He handed her the key to her room. "Second story, number 224."

"Thank you kindly," she said, "I must ask, is your restaurant still open? I am quite hungry from the ride."

"Yes ma'am. It will be serving lunch for the next hour."

"Oh thank you!" Her feet could not carry her quick enough to the restaurant. She found a table and and motioned to the nearest waiter. Her order seemed more like the shopping list for the kitchen. She tried the soup, the salad, a vast assortment of breads, and ordered a plate of scallops and another plate of brazed chicken. A dish of ice cream and a slice of blueberry pie finished off her meal. The plates were practically licked clean.

Dabbing her lips with a napkin and signing for the meal, she stood and casually made her way to the room. She gazed at the details of the inn. She would be there for some time, so getting familiar with the place was not a bad idea.

Her room was very much to her liking, all except for the bed. She stuck her head out the door and called for the nearest employee, complaining that her bed was too hard. Two maids immediately brought up the inn's softest sheets and comforter. They replaced them with ease and watched as their guest tried out the new sheets. But again, there was a problem.

"Too soft," she stated.

Third time was the charm when the maids brought up another set of sheets that seemed to be just right. Goldy sprawled herself across the bed, thanking the staff for their patience and help. She drifted off just as they were shutting the door to leave.

Her nap lasted longer than she had anticipated. The full day of travel and the giant meal expended much of her energy. But now, the nap had presented her with the problem of too much energy so late in the day. It was nearly seven.

"I'll be up for hours," she said as she rolled out of bed. She went to the mirror and fixed her curls. Her bags lay near the door. Their presence reminded her that needed to unpack. She eyed the baggage like an old enemy. Work, work, work, she thought to herself. There is always work, even when she was trying to relax. But the bags could last one more day, she told herself. Tonight was a night to celebrate her arrival.

She went to one of the bags and opened it. She pulled out a social dress she had always liked, purple with elegant black trimming. With the new apparel hugging her frame, she headed down to the parlor. Soft music poured out of the open doors. The thick smell of cigars filled the air, causing Goldy to grimace upon entering. She looked around. The place was filled with an assortment of different ladies and gentlemen. Some chose to dress more casually while others looked practically overdressed.

"Champagne, ma'am," a steward offered. He bent slightly at the waist so his tray of beautifully crafted champagne glasses drifted in front of Goldy's face.

She looked at them for a second. She picked one that seemed to have less in it than the others. She nodded her head to the steward in gratitude.

"Do try it. It is remarkably smooth," a male voice said to her.

Goldy looked over her shoulder to find a tall, grey-haired man probably in his late forties. His chin protruded from his jaw in a very pronounced fashion, leaving his cheekbones low sitting on his face. His eyebrows were remarkably thin and defined for a man, though he certainly knew how to use them. He stared at Goldy with a great sense of pride, apparently assuming he was the first man at the inn to approach her in all her golden-haired wonder.

"Smooth, you say," Goldy asked while raising the glass to her lips.

"Indeed so. Strong but not too pungent." He apparently believed he was the expert.

"You don't say," she replied, ignoring his critique and going with her own first impression of the drink.

"My name is Maxwell Bellamonte," he introduced himself. He offered a softly gestured handshake to her. She politely put her hand in his, not expecting the forward kiss he placed upon it. As soon as he let go, she discreetly wiped the back of her hand on the side of her dress as he talked.

"And what might your name be," he asked her with a crooked smile.

"It _might_ be Miss Locks," she stated. She tried to run from him by taking a few steps away. Unfortunately, he followed.

"Are formalities really necessary amidst friendly conversations," he asked, "Surely you have a first name."

Goldy looked at him for a moment. She officially decided she did not like him, but her upbringing had taught her to handle these situations calmly and with dignity. "Goldy," she simply stated.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful young lady," he said.

His shoulder lightly brushed hers. Even though he held his hands behind his back, the touch still seemed invasive. Goldy took a small step away to escape the proximity. "You are generous with your compliments, Mr. Bellamonte. Perhaps too generous."

He placed his hand on her upper back. "Don't be so modest, Goldy."

The line had been crossed. She turned away from his touch and opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted.

"Hello, darling. I hope I haven't kept you waiting." A dark-haired gentleman with brilliant brown eyes stepped up next to her and kissed her on the cheek as they would in Europe. "Who is your friend," he asked while staring down Bellamonte.

Though taken off guard by the forward tactic of the young man, Goldy reacted accordingly. "Oh... dearest... this is Mr. Maxwell Bellamonte. He was just telling me about the champagne."

"Ah, very smooth, no?" He continued to challenge the older gentleman with his stare.

Bellamonte squinted crossly at the two. "Yes, very smooth, indeed. Excuse me." He practically stormed off towards the doors that led outside, frustrated and deflated by his defeat. And as soon as he was gone, the two make believe lovers relaxed.

"I do believe it worked," the young man stated.

"I think so. He looked so disappointed," Goldy laughed.

"Terribly sorry for my forward approach, but you seemed to have been in an unfavorable situation," he explained.

"I would use a stronger word to describe that disastrous encounter," she smiled, "But I am very glad you intervened. Thank you."

"You are very welcome, my lady," he said with a slight bow, "If you are fine now, I shall leave you as you were."

He turned to leave but Goldy put a hand on his sleeve. "Oh please, one moment. What is your name?"

His smile was dazzling. "Jonathan Pierce," he replied, "And your name?"

"Goldy Locks," she smiled back.


	6. Return to Safety

As the night went on, Goldy drifted from person to person, laying on her charm as she went. By ten o'clock, the entire parlor knew her name and was quite enchanted by her manners and allure. Bachelors young and old offered her drinks and food, but the only man in the room she kept her eye on was her good Samaritan, Jonathan Pierce. And by the looks of it, he kept an eye on her as well, even though it was from a distance. She had found a cozy couch to sit on in the middle of the room where various guests surrounded her and chatted her ear off with business ventures or tales of extravagant vacations in the Alps. However, her origins and past experiences remained a mystery to everyone, even the most experienced of elegant talkers in the room. She never said much about herself, always finding a way to turn the conversation around.

Through the midst of the parlor chatter, a woman suddenly screamed. Goldy stood up to see what the fuss was about.

The crowd in the room parted like the Red Sea as a woman practically carried a young lady from outside. They went straight through the parlor and out into the lobby. The guests erupted into a sea of frantic and confused whispers of gossip. The news eventually reached Goldy's ears.

"Did you hear? A young woman was attacked! The scoundrel managed to escape, too," someone stated in Goldy's presences.

The news startled her to the bones. She sat down, rubbing her shoulders with her hands. The entire room was feverish with gossip and talking, but it all became white noise to Goldy. She stared out in front of her, very distraught by the idea, and even more distraught because she almost felt she knew who did it.

"Miss Locks?"

The voice made her jump. It was Jonathan. He knelt in front of her.

"Are you alright, Miss Locks," he asked her.

"Yes... I just... It's so horrible what happened," she said, still clearly shaken.

"Come now, the woman will be alright. From what I hear, the inn security is hot on the criminal's trail," he reassured her.

"Yes of course," she stated, now trying to hide her fear.

"Would you like to stand and talk with me a while to take your mind off of it," he asked her, offering his hand.

"Yes, certainly," she took his hand and let him help her to her feet.

For the rest of the night, they walked about the parlor, trying to find groups of people that were not chattering away about the young woman's attack. Goldy was visibly distracted, no longer the charming young woman that had graced the crowd earlier with her charm. She made glances at the doors often, feeling a strong urge to return to the safety of her room. Finally, the chiming of the clock gave her an excuse to leave.

"It's late, I really must return to my room," she told Jonathan.

"Would you like me to escort you, Miss Locks," he asked.

"Oh no, I should be fine. But thank you," she stated, almost desperate to leave now. She said a brief goodbye and quicken her pace to her room. The stairs and hallways seemed longer than before. But she finally made it to the second floor only to come to the awful realization that she had forgotten which room was hers.

"Oh dear, I would forget, wouldn't I," she said, looking around at the doors hoping something would jar her memory. Suddenly, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway towards her. She turned and saw a tall woman with a piercing stare. The surprise made her jump practically two feet into the air.

"Oh! Do forgive me! My nerves are a little on end," she said.

The woman softened her gaze. "Is there something I can do for you, ma'am?"

"It's terribly embarrassing. I forgot which room number was mine and I just heard about the horrible attack on that young woman. Needless to say, I feel very skittish."

"Come with me, my dear. I will help you," the woman stated.

"Oh thank you," Goldy said with a hint of relief.

They began walking back towards the lobby, obviously to ask for the room number. "Did you happen to hear about the attack on that young woman?"

"Yes, I heard about it," the woman said.

"Dreadfully awful, don't you think?"

"Yes, but I am sure the young lady will be fine. No need to worry," she said. There was a great sense of suavity and confidence about this woman. She spoke as though she controlled the entire world, as if her way was the only way. A princess? No, a queen. Maybe not a real queen, but she might as well have worn a crown. Her strength fascinated Goldy.

They reached the front desk. "Oh, hello Madame Primrose," the desk clerk addressed the woman. Goldy glanced at her, making note of her name.

"Good evening, Trevor. This young woman needs to know her room number. Could you look it up for her?"

"Certainly. Your name, ma'am?"

"Uh... Goldy, Goldy Locks," she stated.

"You are in room number 224 on the second story, Miss Locks," he said after a moment.

"Oh, thank you," Goldy said to him, feeling very relieved. "And thank you again, Madame Primrose."

"Anytime, Miss Locks," she said, nodding her head slightly. "I am headed back to the second story, too. Would you like me to walk you back?"

Somehow, this woman offered more security than any man Goldy had ever been escorted by, so it was hard not to say yes. So the two women continued back to the second story, Goldy trying to make small talk along the way.

"Are you with your husband on holiday," Goldy asked as they walked.

"I am not married," Primrose stated.

"Oh, well neither am I," Goldy said, "I am here on a bit of a holiday though," she smiled cheekily. "Does business bring you to the woods?"

"The woods _are_ my business," Primrose said. "They have been for a long time."

"I can understand that. I find a strange connection with them, as though they are a part of me," Goldy said.

Primrose glanced over at her with a small smile. Strange affinities for the woods was something she could relate to. The girl looked no older than twenty-five or twenty-six yet seemed to be carrying something of great weight on her mind or her heart. The look was unmistakable. It was the look Primrose saw every morning in the mirror.

Goldy found her door immediately and unlocked it. "You have been quite a dear, Madame Primrose," she said, "I certainly hope I run into you again."

"Maybe we will see each other some time at breakfast," Primrose vaguely suggested.

"Yes, perhaps," Goldy replied. "Good night."

"Good night," Primrose nodded to her.

Goldy shut the door. She turned around, nearly tripping over her bags that she had left out. She searched for a match and lit the nearby oil lamp. Her room glowed with a warm beauty. She sat on the bed for a moment and thought about the day's many events. If this was any sign of what was to come, she was in for quite the adventure.


	7. Meeting over Breakfast

Gretel approached the restaurant and straightened her dress. She did not have many presentable dresses, but this was one of them. She had also pulled her hair back in a loose bun, the best she could do on such short notice. Her skills in the hair fashions were minimal at best. But she managed to not insult anyone with her appearance on her way down from her room. And that was at least a start. However, the black eye on her face did draw a few stares. Young ladies did not often sport battle wounds. It was hard for her to open that particular eye, but she could still admire the lobby as she stepped into it. It looked no different from before, but it still captured Gretel enough for her to take a gratifying look around. She smiled at the interior but remained on her journey to meet Red. She walked up to the host at the front of the restaurant.

"Is Madame Primrose here yet," she asked him.

But her question was answered when she looked over his shoulder. The madame waved at her from her table.

"Oh, never mind. I see her," she said, passing by the host.

Red propped her elbows up on the table, interlacing her fingers so her chin could rest against her hands. She watched Gretel with a slight smile. It was hard not to notice her change in appearance, especially since she arrived at the inn looking like a promiscuously ragtag homeless urchin. The dress and the updo aged her at least ten years. And it was hard not to ignore the black eye, but Red knew better than to bring it up.

"Good morning, Red," Gretel stated, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"Good morning, Gretel. I took the liberty of ordering you some coffee."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful."

"Did you sleep well," Red asked.

"Surprisingly yes," Gretel answered, "The bath really did wonders."

"I find hot baths always do. Forgive me for being so forward, but your appearance this morning is very different from yesterday," Red noticed.

The observation _was_ a bit forward indeed, but Gretel was not exactly the queen of propriety. However, the statement did catch her off guard, and she thought about which answer she should give, the lie or the truth. One of them weighed heavier on her mind.

"It seems my earlier appearance has gotten me into trouble," she said, looking down at the table cloth. "And I am not as dense as I look. I know many people are not too thrilled with my choice in fashion. I drive people away by just being myself."

"And attract others," Red stated.

Gretel looked up at her.

"Personally, I found your style rather... compelling. We do not get many individuals like you around here, or really any individuals at all."

The waiter casually came by and put their coffee in front of them. Red picked up a sugar cube and dropped it in her coffee, stirring it as she talked. "The idea of being a cog in the clockwork was never my fancy. I think you are a woman who can appreciate that."

Gretel blinked twice at all this talk. She considered herself rather strong and forward, but it was hard to be self-asserting when Red was around. "You make it sound so normal, for a woman to have greater desires than what life has dealt her."

Red smiled. "In my inn, it is."

A head of brilliant yellow hair caught Red's eye. "Oh, it's Miss Locks."

Gretel looked over her shoulder. "Who?"

"A frightfully jumpy little thing. I accidentally scared her as I was walking back to my room last night. She had forgotten her room number," Red explained while keeping her eyes on Goldy.

"Awfully skinny, isn't she," Gretel noticed.

"But she has the appetite of a horse, the kitchen staff tells me," Red said. "Ordered herself a feast the last time she was in here."

The host led Goldy to a table. But on the way, she spotted Red. "Oh, Madame Primrose," she said, approaching their table, "it is so good to see you again. I hope your morning is as lovely as mine."

"Equally so, I assure you. This is Miss Eberly," Red motioned to Gretel.

"Just Gretel is fine," Gretel corrected the title. She never liked being called by her last name.

Goldy turned to look at Gretel but immediately reacted to the sight of her black eye. It was hard to miss it. Her left eye, brow, and cheekbone were decorated with various dark shades of purple, blue, and black. Goldy could not help but put a hand to her mouth as she gasped. "My dear! What happened to your eye?"

"It's a long story," Gretel said casually, even shrugging her shoulders as if to write it off as nothing special.

"I do hope you are alright, my dear. And I hope I am not interrupting your visit," Goldy said politely.

"Not at all," Red replied. "Are you dining with anyone, Miss Locks?"

"Oh no, I am my own company this morning."

"My dear, such a thing will not occur in my inn," Red stated. She snapped her fingers at the nearest waiter, motioning for him to bring another chair.

Goldy looked rather shocked. "_Your_ inn? I did not know this was your inn."

"Took me by surprise, too," Gretel joked.

"You simply must join us for breakfast. I won't take no for an answer," Red stated firmly. The waiter brought the new chair and pushed it in for Goldy when she sat down.

"I must say, I never expected to meet the inn's owner, or for that matter, have her come to my rescue last night," Goldy said, still visibly stunned by the new situation.

"That is something you and I share," Gretel lightly commented.

"Pardon?"

There was a bit of a pause. Red and Gretel looked at each other for a moment. "Gretel, dear, do you mind?" Red asked.

"Not really."

Goldy looked between the two in confusion.

"Gretel was the woman attacked last night," Red explained while motioning to her.

Goldy gasped and looked over at Gretel in shock.

"Madame Primrose saved me by throwing a knife at my attacker," Gretel admitted. "I owe my life to her."

"I suppose that explains your eye," Goldy said, "My dear, are you truly alright? The news of your attack weighed heavily on me all night."

"Your concern is flattering, but I am quite alright," Gretel said. "I have been through worse in my days." The comment sparked Red's interest. She perked her eyebrows up and glanced at Gretel. "Worse, you say?"

"Not an entirely appropriate topic for the breakfast table, I assure you," she said, immediately trying to cover for herself.

Goldy seemed pretty interested in the subject as well, though she dare not pursue it further.

"Perhaps a better topic for the game room, over a game of poker," Red stated, a slight smile on her lips. Both Goldy and Gretel seemed taken aback by the suggestion. "Do you actually play poker, Madame Primrose?"

"Often, actually. I find it a rather soothing past time. I have an abundant staff of willing opponents," she said, "I would be more than willing to teach you."

Goldy and Gretel exchanged glances of insecurity. However, Red's ardent attitude on the subject was infectious. Goldy began to smile her cheeky smile, as if they were teens planning to sneak out into the night. It somehow felt naughty, even though it was not breaking any written rule. Gretel began to smile, too, thinking on days of old. She straightened in her chair.

"I think it might be a fun idea."

Goldy laughed lightly. "I have a strange feeling you two are going to be bad influences."

A wolfish smile adorned Red's lips. "Those are the best kinds."


	8. Hansel

"... and a flush beats a straight," Red finished explaining.

The game room was deserted except for the three women at the corner poker table. The light of the low hanging lantern engulfed the women and the table in a protective haze of light. It was as though they had entered their own world where no outsiders could intrude. Gretel and Goldy had grown impatient during breakfast. Every second that ticked by somehow made the wicked idea of taking up the man's game all the more exciting. Even Goldy, with her bear-like appetite, rushed through her many plates of food, only leaving her bowl of porridge untouched.

"How long have you been playing poker, Red," Goldy asked as Red dealt out the first hand.

"Save your questions. For in lieu of betting money, we will bet information," Red explained.

"What do you mean," Gretel asked.

"I thought this up years ago when I first opened the inn. I often played against new employees, but they never had much money to bet. So we began to bet questions. The winner of each hand could pick which of their opponents had to answer the questions. But since I am quite the card shark, within a few hands I knew their entire life stories while they only knew the bare minimum about me."

"You clever woman," Gretel smiled, as she laid down two cards. "And here you plan to do the same with us, am I correct?"

Red passed some cards. "Awfully devilish of me, I know," she stated, smiling like a fiend.

"We'll see about that," Goldy said, picking up her two new cards and straightening her hand. "If we are playing the game that way, then I bet the question, 'Where are you from?' And the answerer must elaborate appropriately."

"I'll see that bet and raise you the occupation of your parents," Gretel jumped in enthusiastically.

Red smiled at their willingness and vigor. "And I raise that bet with the question, 'Who was your closest childhood companion?'"

The ladies called and laid down their cards. "It seems I won the first hand," Red stated proudly. The two others looked visibly disappointed and seemed to take Red's card shark title a little more seriously.

"So who is to answer the questions," Goldy asked.

Red looked between the two and gave it a moment of thought. "Gretel."

Gretel bit her lip lightly. "Really?"

"Certainly, those are the rules after all," Goldy said, happy she was not picked. "I would do the same if Red had chosen me."

"You say that now, but you will act otherwise when I win the next hand and put you on the spot," Gretel retorted.

"Come come now, Gretel. No need to be cross. Go ahead and tell us," Red said, propping her elbows up on the table and resting her chin against her interlaced fingers.

The raven haired woman took a moment. She sighed loudly.

"I was born and raised outside of a small town that lay on the border of the Black Forest in Germany. The town was called Rastinberg. It was a small paradise fifteen miles from no where, an oasis in the desert. We had just what we needed, even a social class. There was the rich and the poor, as in any small town. My family was among the poor. We lived in a small house on the outskirts of town. My father was a blacksmith and farrier, making some of the finest metalwork you ever laid eyes on."

"Tell us of your mother," Red said.

"My mother...," Gretel paused. "I remember she was the joy of our family, the only true joy my father had. Even from birth, I was a disappointment to him. He wanted a son, a strong, fierce boy to carry on the family trade and name. When I came along, he did not know what to do with me. But my mother's heart was big. She loved me so dearly and unconditionally. Though sometimes, it seemed her presence was the only force keeping our small family together. I was eleven when she died of pneumonia. My father was destroyed. During his grieving, his resentment towards me only grew. He hated that I did not look like her. I did not have her flowing yellow hair or her deep blue eyes. I did not have her beauty or her voice. I was a little copy of him, his black mane and harsh brown eyes. Finding no solace in me, he turned to the drink to numb his pain."

Red and Goldy leaned in, listening intently.

Gretel continued after a moment. "Two years passed after she died and my father was married again. He chose a woman known to the town as Widow Savage. Her husband had died, leaving her a decent amount of cash. But even with the prospects of the money, no bachelor wanted to marry her due to her insufferable demeanor. Seeing how my father was equally as insufferable and needed the money to support his drinking habit, he agreed to their union.

"I cannot remember if that woman ever said one nice thing to me. Everyday, it was a new insult. She would say my hair looked like the raggedy tail of a horse or I was more useless than a candle in the midday sun. And after a while, I began to believe her."

"Good heavens, my dear! Was there nothing pleasant about your childhood," Goldy asked.

Gretel smiled sweetly, looking down at the table in thought. "There was Hansel."

"I suppose this will answer the question about who my closest companion was, for there was no one closer to me than Hansel. When he was but a boy, both of his parents were murdered in their home by a thief. He drifted from town to town on his own until he found Rastinberg. I was thirteen when he came to our house looking for work. He stood in our front yard with my father, talking about wages and work hours. I opened the window of my room and watched them. He was not as tall as my father but certainly taller than me. His hair was rather unkempt, but it was the most brilliant shade of red I had ever seen. He had done manual labor before, that was very evident by his build. Yet his face was soft and warm, giving his welcoming smile even to those who did not deserve it. I watched the newcomer from my window as he bargained with my father. He glanced up, looking me directly in the eyes, and smiled at me. Immediately I ducked out of sight when he did, feeling my face flush red.

Later that day we met properly. Father had told him to pick vegetables from the garden and told me to go with him to make sure he did not steal anything. We picked vegetables together and talked for a while. He was just fifteen and had been homeless for most of his life. But he talked of his troubles as if they were just opportunities and lessons learned. His optimism was to be admired. It made me feel ashamed of how I pitied myself at times. Hansel's problems were far worse than mine. But he smiled at me when we were through and offered his arm to me, escorting me back to the house like a true gentleman.

After that day, I found any excuse I could to talk to him or be with him. We became the very best of friends, possibly even closer. He was almost like a brother to me at times. We would climb the apple trees, tell each other stories, sing songs that echoed against the trees, and we even jumped into the local stream once to see who could stand the cold longer. My step-mother was furious when I came home soaked to the bone that day. She and my father knew I was friends with Hansel and did not seem to mind, just as long as I was not distracting him from his work. I broke that rule far too often though. When I was with Hansel, I could be fearless and independent. I was not weak or useless, as my step-mother tried so hard to convince me of. Hansel made me feel like there was so much more to me."

Goldy sat entranced by Gretel's story, obviously charmed by the description of her dear friend. Red smiled softly. "My my, you are quite the storyteller, Gretel. You simply must tell us more of what happened to you and your enchanting friend."

"Oh yes! Please do!" Goldy squealed.

Gretel smiled and shook her head. "Oh no no, I answered the questions profusely. If you want to hear more, you'll have to beat me in the next hand."

This made Red smile as she dealt the cards. "Be careful, my dear. I play to win."

"So do I," Gretel retorted back with a confident smile.


	9. Old Money

The three women looked at their cards intently. No one wanted to lose. Red looked around for the telltale signs on the others faces. "Goldy, are you folding or calling," she asked.

"Give me a moment," Goldy said, "I suppose I'll call."

They laid down their hands and searched for the winner. "It's me! I won," Gretel said excitedly.

"Oh dear, I just knew I was going to be no good at this game," Goldy pouted.

"Seeing how I made the promise to put you on the spot, it's your turn to talk, Goldy," Gretel stated.

"Me? Why not Red? I am sure Red's life was much more exhilarating than mine," she argued.

"Come on now, those are the rules. You said so yourself," Gretel folded her arms proudly, waiting for the story.

"It can't be all that bad, my dear," Red stated as she gathered and shuffled the cards. "If Gretel can do it, you can do it."

"Fine," Goldy said haughtily, "I was born in Oregon, my mother and father were merchants, and I had no close childhood companions."

Red and Gretel were surprised by Goldy's sudden reluctance to speak. "Come now, Goldy. We are all mature adults here. I told you the gritty details of my life. Why can't you," Gretel asked her.

Goldy fidgeted in her chair. "I... my... my childhood was rather embarrassing. I was not the most pleasant of children. I do not wish you to think poorly of me."

"Your fear is unfounded, my dear. Besides, you would be surprised at the gory details I could share," Red stated, "I can guarantee yours are no worse."

"I would put money on myself in that bet," Goldy answered, "But I guess I can tell you a few things."

"I was born in Oregon City. My parents had traveled the Oregon Trail when they were children. My grandparents were all very wealthy people, leaving mother and father a very favorable inheritance. The combined incomes provided them an appropriate wealthy lifestyle. Both of my parents were prosperous merchants and business people in Oregon City, only adding to our wealth. When I was born, they spared no expense in making me the most spoiled child in the entire Northwest. Looking back on those days now, I suppose I took far too much for granted. My education was one to envy, especially in such a small town. I had pieces of clothing I had never worn before stuffed into the back of my closet. Our house was spacious and dressed with only the finest imported decorations. We had acres and acres of the most fertile land, filled with apple orchards and a sea of wheat. I never once went without food or a nice comfy bed. I even had a horse that was all my own, having been trained extensively in the practice of horseback riding. It was all so perfect."

"It certainly sounds like it," Gretel said.

"Yes, but I was perfectly rotten. Rotten to the core, I dare say. I never had enough. I always wanted more. My fuse was ridiculously short and my tantrums grew worse and worse even as I aged. If a servant told me we were out of my favorite fruit, I bellowed up a storm of insults and threats until someone went to the grocer to buy me a fresh one. I even recall an issue involving a dress. My mother called in a seamstress to make me a gown for the North Star Ball. I recall how beautiful it truly was, but I was so enraged by how drab and dull I thought it looked that I ripped it clean to shreds. I had no close companions because no one was good enough for me, in my eyes. Even if they were good enough, I was unbearably proud and a task for anyone to put up with. I thought so highly of myself and how I deserved so much more. When it was finally all taken away from me, it was then I realized how little I really needed."

"How was it taken from you," Red asked.

Goldy blinked at the question, as if she let out a secret. "I... well... I was seventeen. I had gotten incredibly mad one day. I don't even remember what it was about, but I had yelled at my parents and ran off to the stables afterwards. I found my horse and saddled her up. Before long, I was riding out of pure anger. I took off towards the woods, trying to escape my horrible wealthy lifestyle. My, how foolish I was. My horse and I danced in and out of the trees weaving further and further into the woods. My head was so stuffy with anger and frustration that I did not pay attention to where I was or where I was going. I did not even see the ledge. My horse managed to stop short of the drop off, but the abrupt halt sent me flying forward. To this day, I thank God I held the reins so tightly. I dangled from my horse's reins over a forty foot drop. The poor horse tried his hardest to keep from falling over the edge himself. The weight I was putting on his head and neck was awful and I searched for something to grab onto. A tree root jutted out from the ledge and I immediately grabbed it. But the reins slipped out of my hands, leaving me clutching to a tree root for dear life. I found a foot hole and used all the strength I had to pull myself back up onto the ledge. When I finally was safe on solid ground again, my horse had run off and I was alone, completely lost in the woods."

"What a story! Nearly dying from falling off a cliff," Gretel stated. "Please continue!"

"I'm afraid not. I answered the questions appropriately, and if you ask me, Red should take a turn at our storytelling game whether she loses a hand of poker or not," Goldy stated, staring directly at Red.

Red smiled wolfishly again. "You would love my story, I am sure. And I suppose it would be the fair thing to do after both of you answered your questions so vividly. But first, one more hand. I've grown so fond of this game, it has become a habit."

* * *

_I hate having to ask for reviews, but I would really like a head count on how many people are reading the story so far. So if you are reading and enjoying the story, send a review for this chapter. Thank you all in advance! _


	10. A Red Hood

The ladies had been in the game room for a while now. The only one who had not revealed her story yet was Red. But she stalled with another few hands of poker. Gretel, however, grew impatient.

"Red, dear, you still have yet to share your story with us," she said, looking at the cards in her hands.

"Right you are, Gretel. Forgive me, my mind tends to wander. Let me begin."

"I was born right here in these woods. When my mother was a child, her family lived in a lonely little cottage in the middle of the forest. When she married my father, the two of them moved closer to a small village called Sleeping Timbers. I have fond memories of visiting the village as a child, meeting friends and trading for supplies. But my fondest memories were of the forest. My father would not let me wander too far from the house, but I enjoyed climbing the trees and picking the flowers. I felt as though the forest was my closet friend. It was true bliss. But when I was nine, my father died."

Gretel was noticeably moved by the statement.

"After that, my mother worked endlessly to keep our broken family afloat. And it did not help that she also had to take care of my grandmother."

"Grandmother?" Goldy asked.

"Yes, a dreadfully horrible woman to say the very least. Even as a child I remember being afraid of her. Whiskey or wine was always on her breath. Grandfather had died many years ago, so she let herself go all to pieces. My mother and I would visit her periodically just to make sure she did not drink herself to death. Rarely was she sober for these visits. My mother would sit me at the dining room table with Grandma while she tried to make a decent meal. Grandma would sit there and talk my ear off with drunken nonsense and dirty words. If I was lucky, I could get her telling a story about wolves and woodmen. It would at least give her something to focus on rather than spewing indecencies in my presence."

"Good heavens, how very scandalous," Goldy gasped.

"Yes, most of my childhood was very scandalous. But as I grew older, things got even more interesting. When I finally turned fourteen, my mother started sending me to Grandma's alone. It saved time and mother could stay behind and work. I remember the first time I went through the forest alone. It was a three mile trek to Grandma's house, over the river and through the woods. But as long as I stayed on the path, I felt safe. I feared for my life more at Grandma's house. I began to see the worst of her. She would often throw bottles at me or against the wall in drunken anger. The house would always be filthy and I would spend hours cleaning it up, only to have Grandma complain of her hunger. I grew so tired of cooking for her that I began taking food with me in a basket. I hated every moment spent in that house. I would walk back crying my eyes out, trying to wipe away the tears before I got home so my mother would not see.

"One day, I returned home and opened the door to fine my mother standing there with a box. She held it out to me with a smile. I opened the box to discover the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. My mother had made me a red velvet riding hood. It shimmered in the light of our fireplace and was so soft to the touch. I threw it over my shoulders excitedly and looked in the mirror. The sight of it was so magnificent I began to cry. In that moment, all the hardships I had suffered had been rectified with one gift. My mother held me, admiring how lovely I looked in the mirror. She whispered to me that we would make it, that we were strong. And I believed her. If she could work from dusk to dawn for my sake, I would do anything to make her life easier.

"I rarely went anywhere or did anything without that red hood. I slept in it for a long time until my mother caught me and insisted I hang it up before bed. The village began to call me by a peculiar nickname, more so than my real name. They called me Little Red Riding Hood, and I loved it. I never felt so unique before. So on my trips to the village, I insisted on being addressed by my nickname. Soon, people practically forgot my real name and took to calling me Little Red Riding Hood, or Red for short. Even my mother would catch herself wanting to call me Red. But the cape made me happy. And more so, it gave me strength. I wore it to Grandma's house to remind me of the silent pact I had made with my mother and the promise I made to myself, to be strong. And it carried me through some of the harder times to come."

Gretel and Goldy just stared for a moment in silence, stunned by the story. "And...? Continue! What were the harder times to come," Gretel insisted on knowing.

"Ah, that is a story I will have to share with you another time," Red said with a smile. She looked at the clock and noticed it was lunch time. "Oh dear, I have places to be soon. You must forgive me, ladies. But an inn does not run itself," she said as she rose from her seat. "We will have to meet again."

"Yes! How about tomorrow," Goldy suggested eagerly. "We could meet for tea, perhaps on the terrace."

"That sounds heavenly," Gretel agreed. "Eleven, just before lunch?"

Red went through her schedule in her head. It would be easy to make room for tea. "Alright, ladies. I shall see you tomorrow. And bring your stories along."

They said their goodbyes and Red left to tend to her inn. Goldy and Gretel looked at each other and smiled. "Do you ever recall meeting a woman like her," Gretel asked.

"I cannot even remember the last time I spoke so openly about myself," Goldy stated. "Whatever magical powers the two of you possess to make my lips so loose, it would be economical to bottle it and sell it for top price."

"I believe it is the woods," Gretel said, "I think _that_ is where the magic is."


	11. Passion in the Woods

The sun seemed very warm, much warmer than yesterday. Goldy stood out in the garden, her hands placed delicately behind her back. She pondered on the stories she heard only a few minutes ago in a rousing game of poker. She pondered on her own story as well. Never had anyone gotten so much information from her before. She feared she might share too much at their next meeting. But somehow, she felt safe enough with her new friends. There was something she saw in them, something that was in her as well. She was not sure what that something could be, but she had a few weeks to find out. Her gaze went out into the trees that surrounded the inn. They seemed welcoming. So she took a step closer. She took another, and another. But that was as far as she went. She suddenly remembered the event from the night before. No word of the scoundrel's capture had reached her ears, and because of that, she was wary. It was unfair, being trapped in the inn, unable to enjoy her new surroundings because of a twisted rapscallion.

"You seem very deep in thought over those woods," someone said to her.

The statement did not startle her, but it did feel as though it were intruding upon her thoughts. She turned to see who it was. "Oh! Mr. Pierce, its nice to see you again," she said, immediately recognizing his lovely brown eyes and dark hair.

"I am glad to see you are willing to go outside. You seemed rather shaken last night," he noticed.

"I was. And it still rests heavily on my mind. It seems so unfair that I should have to stand here and try to enjoy the woods from afar simply because one crazed man could not control himself," she stated angrily.

"If you are so eager to enter the woods, might I offer my escort to you," he asked. "I have been searching for something to do, and it would be my honor to accompany you on a beautiful day like this."

How could a girl resist such debonair talk? Goldy smiled generously at him. "You would make me exceedingly happy if you did."

He smiled, bowed to her, and offered her his arm. She took it and let him lead her to one of the paths. Soon, they were completely surrounded by the forest, breathing in the freshness of the evergreens. The flowers were so potent in their fragrance that one need not bend down to smell them. Their aroma wafted in the air like smoke on the wind. Goldy looked around at the splendor of it all. She bent down and picked up a curious flower of most brilliant blue. And while she was preoccupied, Jonathan picked a lovely red blossom from the grass. The two turned around in unison. Goldy offered her blue flower to him, and he gave his red blossom to her. With a smile, she took his arm again, slightly leaning on him as they walked.

"I recall a lovely spot just beyond those trees. Do you mind if we leave the path," he asked.

"Not at all," she said, lifting her dress just slightly so it did not get caught on the roughage of the forest floor.

"So what brings you to these woods, Miss Locks," Jonathan asked.

"Oh, I don't know," she sighed, "Home lost its congenial touches long ago, so I suppose I am running away from it."

"Running rarely solves anything. I can speak from experience. Did a disagreeable marriage cause you to flee?"

"I should be so lucky. But no, I am not married. I haven't really put much thought into marriage for a while. People think it odd, a woman of my age still running around without a husband," Goldy explained.

"I do not think of it as odd. A woman should choose someone to make her happy, wouldn't you say," he stated, helping her over a rather large log.

"It makes me happy to hear you say that. So many suitors back home claimed it was my obligation to get married. A wasted fortune is what they called it. A man should be running that property, they would say. Quite frankly, the mere mention of money made me turn a cold shoulder to a man. Soon, fewer and fewer came to call on me, thinking of me as nothing more than a shrew doomed to die alone. I had to leave that town. I might have gone mad if I did not."

"Such superficial behavior, I must say," Jonathan noted, "If I might be so bold to say, a true gentleman would make a fine match for you, my dear."

"You merely say that because you think yourself a gentleman," Goldy obviously teased while leaning even more on him.

Jonathan smiled. He stopped and turned to look at her. The sun reflected perfectly off his eyes, taking Goldy's breath away. He leaned in very close, placing his hand in the small of her back. His touch sent a shiver up her spin. She closed her eyes and left him kiss her. He was very tender, kissing her as though she were a princess. She cradled his face in her hands, savoring the sweetness of his lips. He pulled away only for a moment to place a trail of kisses along her neck and up to her ear. The feeling made her sigh in delight and she drew closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

Gretel stumbled through the woods, her camera thrown over her shoulder. Her bag carried a few more unused exposure plates, just in case there was anything more that needed to be documented. She had thrown away her fears of being attacked again, having brought a knife this time for her protection. She trudged through the undergrowth, searching for her next photo, when she suddenly heard a small coo of pleasure in the distance. She stopped to listen carefully for it. There were more sounds coming from somewhere up ahead, echoing against the trees. She silently stepped forward to find the source.

She stopped when she finally found what she was looking for. A man had his hands wrapped passionately around Goldy, kissing her as though her skin tasted like honey. She moaned as his lips traveled all over her neck and shoulders. The light in the trees gave the two a heavenly glow, as though their passion fueled the very sun itself. Gretel stood in awe of the moment. Her heart raced watching them and she slowly set up her camera, knowing one sound would ruin the priceless moment forever. She slipped a plate into the camera and hid herself beneath the black cloth. Looking through the lens, the moment seemed even more surreal. But she waited for the right moment as the man rose to kiss Goldy on the lips once more, and she snapped the picture.

As Jonathan kissed her, Goldy let her hands wander to his shirt collar. She unfastened it, feeling her blood pump with passion. She unbuttoned the rest of his shirt as he worked on the back of her dress. She pushed it off his shoulders and he removed it the rest of the way, throwing it to the side. He quickly shed his undershirt, giving Goldy a good look at his bare chest. He looked as fit as any farm boy, his muscles tout beneath his skin. She ran her hands down his chest, feeling him shudder beneath her touch. She leaned in and placed kisses all over it, giving him room to continue undoing the back of her dress. He finally unhooked the last fastener and she let her heavy dress slide off her body. He lifted her undershirt over her head to reveal her milky white breasts. They were practically perfect, at least in his eyes. He leaned down and took one in his mouth, sucking it just enough for Goldy's voice to get caught in her throat.

Gretel watched from a distance, desperate to experience the same touch but doomed to merely watch. She clenched her legs together tightly, biting her lip.

His tongue circled Goldy's nipple. His free hands pulled down her leggings, leaving her in nothing but her corset and shoes. He lowered her to the ground, leaning her back up against a tree. She gasped loudly as he opened her legs. Her smell was heavenly, as sweet as the flowers she sat upon. He held her thighs in his hands and buried his face in her womanhood, licking and sucking desperately. Goldy squirmed in pure delight, grasping one of her breasts in her hands and running her fingers through his hair with the other.

"Oh! Yes! Feels so good," she gasped. The words drove him forward and he pulled away to undo his pants. Removing them quickly and throwing them aside, he began kissing her neck once again. But suddenly, he forced two fingers into her warm spot, going in and out rhythmically. Her intense moan of surprise and pleasure was like music. She arched her back, and he took her nipple in his mouth once again.

"Please! Enter me, Jonathan," she gasped out.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered breathlessly. He sat back, revealing his long erection. She crawled towards him and put her arms around his neck, straddling his waist as he sat on the ground. He held his member by the base to steady it as she positioned herself. The tip rubbed up against her opening, almost teasing her. Finally, she could stand it no more. She lowered herself inch by inch onto him. Her wetness made it slide in with no problem. He grabbed her firmly on the buttocks and forced her up and down on him. She could not help herself but to moan loudly with each thrust. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held him tightly. All she could hear was his pleasured moans and the sound of his warm member entering her over and over again.

Gretel's breath shuddered watching the passionate display. Her warm spot began to throb as blood rushed to it. She looked over at her bag and grabbed for one more exposure plate. She set up her camera as before, ducking beneath the safety of the black fabric and looking through the lens, waiting for her moment.

Goldy could feel herself coming closer to the end. "Jonathan! I... I'm about to...," she said.

"Just let go, darling," he said to her steamily.

"Oh! Yes!" Goldy threw her head back and shouted to the heavens, having reached her climax.

Gretel pressed the button on her camera. The moment had been saved.

After a few more thrusts, Jonathan removed his member from Goldy's warm spot and released. They took a few moments to catch their breath. Jonathan looked into Goldy's beautiful blue eyes and smiled. "My dear, do you still think me a gentleman?"

She laughed sweetly and got very close. "Only a gentleman can make a lady feel that beautiful," she whispered, almost touching her lips to his. He closed the gap between them and savored one more kiss from her.

Gretel gathered her things and headed back the way she came. If discovered, it would be hard to look Goldy in the face again, let alone see her for tea the next day.

Jonathan retrieved Goldy's undergarments and handed them to her. She put them on and straightened out her corset while Jonathan pulled up his pants. The two traded off helping each other, Jonathan lacing up the back of her dress and Goldy buttoning and straightening his shirt. They looked each other over carefully and decided their appearances were presentable enough to wander back to the inn. They headed back up the trail. But as they reached the garden, a familiar face was standing and watching their arrival.

"Hello again, Miss Locks," Red said, her wolfish smile always on mark.

"Oh... Hello, R-...Madame Primrose," she said as Jonathan walked her by. She looked over her shoulder as they went by, noticing a subtle wink from Red. Did she know? She could not have possibly known! Goldy felt her face grow hot.

"Are you alright, Miss Locks," Jonathan asked, "Your face is flushed."

"I... I just need a cool bath. I think I shall freshen up before I carry on with the day. Oh, and my name is Goldy between you and me."


	12. A Guilty Solo

Gretel ran up the stairs as though she had committed a murder, hauling her camera over her shoulder. The excitement of what had just taken place was overwhelming, filling her head with fantasies and memories alike. A man offered to carry her camera for her, but she barely even noticed him as she went by. She flew past the rest of the people in the hallway and found her room. The key was excessively hard to find which only fueled her urgency to get in, as if anyone who locked eyes with her would know of the outrageous things she witnessed. She finally found the key and opened the door. Breathless from the speed of her pace, she laid all her belongings down and sat down on the bed. Her eyes were locked on the floor, staring intensely as her thoughts took her elsewhere.

She pushed her knees together tightly, trying to resist the burning feeling of desire between her legs. It had been so long since she felt this way; so many memories. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away. The attack she had endured was still fresh in her mind, and despite this, she had the nerve to crave the touch of a lover. The feeling had become too much for her to bear. She stood and unlaced the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. The simple sensation of being unhindered by such a heavy outfit gave her even more satisfaction, and she removed her undergarments slowly to relish the new pleasure. She watched the mirror as she did, admiring every curve of her body. She was her own lover ready to ravish herself in a sinful act of indulgence. The whole experience seemed surreal, as dreamlike as the instant she snapped the picture of Goldy in the woods. She thought of the two moments she captured, aching to develop those photos. But she would have to wait. And until then, she would entertain herself.

She stood before the mirror, completely unclothed. She caressed her breasts, noticing how very soft they were. As hardened as she had become throughout her life, she found relief in the fact that her body was still touchable. Her other hand wandered down to her womanhood. The feeling of wetness caused her to gasp in pleasure.

Stepping back, she let herself fall onto the bed. The thick bed sheets formed a cradle around her body. Both of her hands found her warm spot and she massaged herself slowly. She placed her foot on the bed so her knee bent straight up. Her toes began to curl, grasping the bed sheets as if her foot were a hand. She quickened the pace of her touch, feeling the blood rush to nether regions. Her whole body tightened, causing her back to arch up. She felt her face flush red, her whole body soon following with a ruby glow.

"Oh... yes! Ah!"

She writhed around, feeling her climax approaching. Her chest heaved up and down wildly, giving her the high of light-headedness. She threw her head back.

"Ah! Oh good lord," she practically screamed.

She slipped two fingers into herself, and that was all she needed. Her back arched up violently and she let out a euphoric scream.

It was ten seconds. Ten seconds of recaptured bliss. It had been so long since she had felt the joys of a climax. But it felt wondrous and relieving, as though something had been released. However, as the flush over her body began to fade away and the only sound to be heard was her heavy breathing, her mind betrayed her with ugly images from the past. Her joy was short-lived. Immediately, her guilt set in. Her eyes glassed over with budding tears, but she refused to let them fall. She just stared up at the ceiling, confused and lost... a lost girl.

A knock came at the door. Gretel sat up immediately, fearing that her screams of pleasure had been heard. The only article of clothing she could throw on was Red's bathrobe. She put it on and went to answer the door, her heart thumping wildly imaging a cross inn patron scolding her for the indecency of it all.

"Hello, Miss Eberly," the bellhop said as Gretel opened the door. "I have your dress here, cleaned and mended as requested by Madame Primrose," he said, offering her the cleanly pressed garment.

Relief washed over Gretel like a wave. Thank goodness she had not disturbed anyone with her noisy endeavor. She took the garment from him, handed him a gratuity, and closed the door with her dress in her arms. She held it up to examine the changes. The stitches of the repaired rips were positively invisible. Damages that were done years ago disappeared as though they had never happened. Even the color seemed brighter and renewed. She put a hand up to her mouth in her delight, but immediately pulled it away, having smelled herself on her fingers. That reminded her of the bath she had promised herself when she was done taking photos. The dress could wait.

The water was slow to fill up the tub. Gretel sat on the rim and thought to herself, idly watching the running water. She thought of her attacker and of Red, how she had been saved from a most horrendous fate. She thought of the stories that she had heard over a manly game of poker. But mostly, she thought of her story and what the next chapter would be. And for some reason, she was eager to share it.


	13. Out in the Open

There was a quietness at the table. The normal pleasantries had been exchanged, queries about how everyone had slept and comments on the agreeableness of the weather. The terrace was glowing with warmth, surrounded by the woods as they danced in the wind. The other tables were mostly abandoned, and now the ladies' table had grown silent. The only one who was not moved by the awkwardness was Red, showing her disinterest by lightly sipping her cup of tea. Goldy adjusted her posture noisily, trying to fill the silence. Red acknowledged the sounds and looked around the table, putting down her cup of tea.

"Your dress looks stunning this morning," Red complimented Gretel, "Are the repairs to your liking?"

Gretel almost forgot she was wearing her newly mended dress. She looked down at it and smiled. "Oh yes, my praise goes out to your seamstress."

"What happened to your dress that would call for repairs," Goldy asked innocently. But before anyone could answer, she put two and two together and it visibly showed on her face. "Oh...," she cooed in realization.

Gretel nodded pensively.

"How awful. Is there any word on his capture," Goldy asked.

"No, but my security has been keeping an eye out for him," Red stated, still sipping her tea.

"I wish to not talk about it," Gretel said, "Could we change the subject?"

"Certainly, my dear," Red stated, putting down her teacup. "We do have stories to continue, and I recall you describing a charming young lad from your youth."

Gretel smiled sweetly. "Hansel, yes."

"Oh, yes! I was quite diverted by your tale," Goldy became excited, "Do tell, how long did Hansel work for your family?"

Gretel thought back. "Five years, and what a grand five years it was."

It was unmistakable how much joy the memory brought to Gretel. The expression of glee was contagious and Red could not help but smile as if she knew the boy as well. "Do tell us more of him, my dear," she insisted.

"Well, Hansel was a strapping young man, to say the very least. His work was vital to my family's survival, as was his lenience in getting paid on time. He was ridiculously patient with my father and I never knew why. He could leave anytime he wanted to. I almost thought him foolish at times for staying. No matter how horrible my father treated him, he would not leave," Gretel explained.

"Ah, back to this father of yours, I see. So he abused poor Hansel," Red said.

"_Abused _might be a strong word, at least at first. Father was prone to explosive outbursts for the smallest reasons. He would almost look for excuses to raise his voice and talk down to Hansel or me. But anytime my father had a particularly monstrous tantrum during the day, Hansel would climb up the side of the house at night and knock on my bedroom window. I would rush to the pane and open it for him. We would talk and tell stories until we fell asleep. I did not think anything of him sleeping in my bed with me. I was always in my nightgown and he in his work clothes. To me, we had committed no impropriety. Though I must admit, some nights left me with impish thoughts about him."

Red smiled suavely and chuckled a little at the statement. "Impish thoughts? How very savory."

Goldy gasped. "Red! Such talk!"

"Please Goldy, I shall not hear it from you. The entire inn could hear your encounter with Mr. Pierce in the forest yesterday."

Goldy's face turned white.

"You'd be surprised at the acoustics of these woods," Red stated, still smiling.

Gretel's eyes were as big as saucers. The issue was finally out in the open. Goldy was absolutely speechless.

"Gretel, I must thank you for bringing up the subject for I believe this particular issue needed to manifest itself within our little circle," Red stated bluntly.

"But, Red! Such things ladies do not talk about in polite conversation," Goldy admonished disdainfully.

"Well the last time I checked, neither of you have been acting like ladies," Red fired back.

Gretel and Goldy were struck silent by the audacious declaration. No word of contradiction against it was made. The two women could think of no means to defend themselves.

Red squinted her eyes in a callous stare. "After all Goldy, you put on a brazen sexual display in the forest with a man you barely knew. And Gretel, your choice of style from the moment you stepped foot into my inn was of most blatant rebellion against the normality for ladies. Even _I_ am one to carry knives on my thigh and save young women from venomous deviants in the night. What _lady _would do that?"

They looked at her almost in fear of her tone. But she had a point. They could say nothing in rebuttal.

Red let the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "This hypocritical sense of pride that grips the two of you so tightly in the name of protocol is frustrating and, quite frankly, insulting. I do not appreciate your fervid attempts to deceive me. For women as bold and confident as you are, you make a desperate strive to hide your true selves. I had thought of you both as exceptional women of revolutionary tastes, but if I am mistaken then let this be our last meeting that we might go our separate ways and not look back."

Silence had never sounded so cold and piercing. Eyes locked with each other, challenging and intrepid. Gretel's chest heaved up and down. She practically snorted like a raging bull, keeping her gaze on Red.

"You are one to talk, Red," she stated.

Red looked at her to challenge her judgement.

"You parade yourself as some lady of quality amongst your guests, but I would fathom that no one in this inn knows your real name," Gretel fought back.

The accusation shocked Red, but she said nothing due to the truth of the statement.

Goldy gained some confidence from Gretel's advance. "You say we should be the revolutionary ladies that you see beneath our skin, yet you continue to keep up appearances and pander to the stuffiest of your guests. To quote one of our founding fathers, people in glass houses should not throw stones."

Red let a familiar look glaze over her eyes. She stared down the other women as if she were hunting them. But after a moment or two of sizing up her opponents, she let a slight smile soften her demeanor.

"You ladies have a valid point. Perhaps it was your arrivals that finally pulled me from my isolation. And perhaps this gathering was meant to be," she stated. Her voice seemed ghostlike and dangerous. "If you two are willing to comply, I would be more than inclined to share the _real_ stories."

Gretel retracted her cold gaze, as did Goldy. They looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"I suggest a walk in the woods to clear our heads. It seems if we share anything in common, it is the paranormal power that the forest seems to have over us," Red suggested.

Gretel realized that Red was right, at least about the forest. The words of revolution and breaking protocol lit a fire in her stomach, and she found new virility to continue her story as it was meant to be told. "I will take you up on that offer. However, I must return to my room and fetch my camera before we set off."

"Anything you want," Red stated. She turned her gaze to Goldy.

The blonde was very focused on her decision. But with a defeated sigh, she relaxed in her chair. "Fine, but we must bring along a picnic."

* * *

_I find it ironic that this is the thirteenth chapter and I uploaded it on Halloween. I decided to write a new chapter because apparently my neighborhood full of kids is also a neighborhood of strict parents. I did not see one trick-or-treater all night. So here's to me and the two giant bowls of candy I wasted money on. Happy Halloween, folks._


	14. Breadcrumbs

"Stunning, absolutely marvelous," Red admired, holding up one of Gretel's photos. Gretel moved about the room, trying to organize her photos and perhaps clean up a little. The whole suite was a mess seeing how she turned it into a makeshift darkroom. Photos hung everywhere all over the room from thin, white strings, some dry and some still wet. Two tables had been set up with various trays of chemicals, making an assembly line for developing photos. A hint of the fumes was still in the air, though practically unnoticeable after a few minutes of acclimation.

"The stench was worse when I first poured the trays," Gretel had assured them.

"I'll take your word," Goldy stated, casually looking at the photos strung up all over the place.

"Never have I seen the forest documented so beautifully," Red stated, looking at photos one after the other.

"That is because this is not documentation," Gretel stated, holding up one of her photos to them, "This is artistic interpretation." She put the photo down and searched for the rest of her equipment.

"Fancy that, a real artist in our midst," Red smiled.

"If that is the case, then I would love to hear the rest of your story's _interpretation_," Goldy said, picking a photo from its hanging place and studying it intently.

Gretel found her satchel and propped it up on the bed. "I suppose I can do two things at once," she said, filling her bag with new exposure plates. "Where had I left off? Oh yes, I remember..."

"Hansel would visit me at night anytime father had one of his mad frenzies. Those nights, laying next to him in bed, I would think of the future and what was to become of me. My days of childhood were coming to a close and I had little idea of what that meant. I thought of Hansel, too. I never realized it at the time, but I was growing more substantial feelings for him. We were never caught in our nighttime meetings. Hansel would silently leave before the sun rose every morning, walking with such light steps that I rarely woke from the sounds of his rustling. I would awaken to find him gone and wonder if it was all just a dream.

When I was eighteen, father desperately wanted to marry me off. I suppose he and my step-mother had grown so tired of looking at me that any suitor would do. Boys and men alike began to show up at our house. Step-mother would paint me up as some powdered floozy and sit me on the couch for each courting. I felt disgusting as each man stood before me making his offers. Some tried to bribe me with money. Some tried their hardest to court me with shallow, poetic nonsense of flowers and beauty. I felt like an item up for auction. The highest bidder would take me home and make me his trophy. I suppose that is why I rejected them all. My dignity was the very last thing I could call my own. But my independence infuriated my father. So many times he raised his hand to strike me, but he never did. He knew Hansel was nearby and would come to my rescue, at least that was what I liked to believe.

The real trouble all started as the latest of my suitors was leaving one day. Father was excessively enraged that afternoon. He broke anything he could get his hands on, making as much noise as he could. He grabbed a handful of my hair and dragged me across the house, a whiskey bottle in his hand. I remember the first strike. It was a hard blow to the head. After that, the next seven or eight just seemed fuzzy. I could still feel the pain, but I did not know where I was or what was happening.

Apparently I was screaming, because Hansel heard and rushed in. He pulled my father off of me and threw him to the side. He picked me up in his arms and carried me outside to the shed he lived in. I regained my senses about that time because I distinctly remember Hansel holding me in his arms and asking me if I was okay. My nose was bleeding profusely and my eye was already starting to swell shut. But for the five minutes of peace we had in that darkened shed, I felt better than I had in a long time.

My father finally came around, pounding on the shed's door. He said he was sorry, begging for me to return to the house so we could be a family again. What a liar he was. Hansel did not believe it, but something in me wanted to. After a few minutes of tears and apologies, Hansel and I walked out of the shed together. Father tried to hug me, but I walked past him and went straight to my room. I spent the next few hours crying to myself and dressing my wounds. I wanted to fly away, flee and never come back. I wanted to take Hansel and just get lost in the woods. Little did I know, I was about to get my wish.

At around midnight, Hansel climbed up to my window and knocked on it with added desperation. We sat on the bed and he told me what he had heard. Father and my step-mother were planning to take me into the woods in the morning. We were going to travel farther into the forest than I had ever gone before, and they were going to leave me there, undoubtably to die. I buried my face in my hands, crying as I had never cried before. Hansel held me tenderly, my tears soaking his shirt. But after a few minutes, he pulled away from me and looked me directly in the eyes.

'Gretel, I know you are sad. But right now, I need you to be strong,' he said to me, holding my face in his hands and brushing away my tears with his thumbs. 'Can you do that for me?'

I nodded my head, even though I was not sure I could keep that promise. He hugged me again, hushing my tears. 'I'll think of something,' he promised me, '... I'll think of something.'

He left earlier than usual that night. My chest ached with fear and pain when he was gone. I felt more alone than ever. I could not sleep even for a moment, I was so terrified. The morning sun creeping in through my window felt like an executioner coming towards me with an axe. I sat on the bed with my knees up under my chin, waiting for my step-mother's knock on the door. My heart began to race when I heard her footsteps approaching. And even though I was expecting it, the knock on the door made me jump and turn white as a ghost.

'Gretel, get up. We have plans this morning,' she said.

'Yes, ma'am,' I answered in a mousey tone. Looking into my closet, it felt as though I were choosing the outfit I would take to the grave. I picked my favorite dress, a beautiful frock of lilac, and found my best petticoat and corset to wear underneath. I even put a purple ribbon in my hair, crying as I looked at myself in the mirror. The only article of questionable elegance I chose to wear were my high, black work boots. If I must walk to my death, I did not want my feet to hurt.

For one reason or another, I did not think to fill my dress to the brim with breakfast rolls. The shock of the situation was very overbearing, like a giant weight on my shoulders. I barely had enough courage to look my parents in the eyes. We left shortly after breakfast. I walked behind my father and step-mother. His pocket bulged out with the shape of a pistol. My eyes watered as soon as I saw it. I let the tears fall, but I made no noise. I just watched the path and periodically looked over my shoulder. Where was Hansel?

We walked until my legs felt like jelly. I was so relieved to stop and rest that I almost forgot this was probably where they were going to leave me. After all, we were easily miles and miles away from home in a part of the woods we had never seen before. Step-mother pulled a small luncheon from her basket and we ate. Being surrounded by the woods, the reality of the situation had finally caught up with me, so I stuffed my entire luncheon in my dress for later.

Father said he was tired and required a nap before we left for home. Step-mother agreed, as if it were her line in a play. They told me I should rest, too, so I would not faint on the trail. With grim composure, I nodded and laid my head down on the ground. I closed my eyes but dared not fall asleep. For a good fifteen minutes, I could only think of Hansel. Where was he? Had he given up hope on me as I had myself? I assumed he did. Why else would I be so close to my end with no help in sight?

I heard my parents gather their things behind me. They tried to be quiet, but every sound they made would have set off an avalanche on a mountain. I listened to them, my eyes red and puffy from my endless crying. Their sounds disappeared slowly into the woods. After I was sure they were gone, I sat up on my hands and looked around. The woods had not changed. The birds continued to sing and the trees still waved their branches with each gust of wind. And yet, they seemed so much scarier.

A rustling in the woods startled me, and I scrambled to my feet to face whatever the threat would be.

'Gretel? Is that you?' a voice asked.

Emerging from the woods was a familiar bushel of radiant red hair. I did not hesitate to rush into Hansel's arms. He held me as tight as a long lost lover.

'You didn't forget me,' I gasped, still clinging to him.

'How could I forget _you_," he said, placing a sweet kiss on my head.

The statement practically made my heart skip a beat. But I wiped away the tears in my eyes and asked him how we were going to get home. He pulled a small bit of bread from his pocket. He saw us leaving the house and could only think to grab a few uneaten breakfast rolls from the kitchen and leave breadcrumbs along the path. The trail of breadcrumbs would lead us home.

I smiled and threw my arms around him happily. He wasted no time in taking my hand and leading back through the forest. The breadcrumbs remained just as he had planned, and he watched the trail closely as we walked. But after a few minutes, he stopped.

'What's the matter,' I asked.

He was looking straight ahead where the crumbs should have led. He put a hand to his head in exasperation, running his fingers through his thick bangs. 'The birds have eaten the breadcrumbs,' he said.

I followed his gaze and noticed a small gathering of birds picking at the ground. The trail was indeed gone.

Hansel was clearly upset. I suppose he felt as though he failed me. But I just put my hand on his shoulder and told him it was alright. We would be strong together and find a way out of the forest. Besides, being lost in the woods with him was so much better than being back with my father and step-mother."

"Oh my," Goldy suddenly said.

Gretel and Red were sitting on the bed, the camera equipment ready to go. They turned to look at Goldy and noticed she was holding a very particular photo.

"Where... how... Did you take this photo?" Goldy struggled.

Gretel finally realized which photo Goldy had found. "Oh dear!" She exclaimed loudly, jumping to her feet. She reached out a hand to snatch the photo away from Goldy, but the blonde evaded her action and continued to look at it.

"Goldy! I'm so sorry, I should have told you," she apologized profusely.

"What's all this now?" Red got up from the bed and looked over Goldy's shoulder. Her eyes immediately grew wide with surprise. "Oh... wow," she stated, visibly thrown off balance by the sensual photo but trying to control her reaction.

"I... it was... I saw you and your gentleman friend in the woods. It was so beautiful that I just had to..." Gretel tried as hard as she could to explain.

Goldy's eyes could not be torn away from it. "It... it _is _beautiful," she said softly.

Red was surprised by her admiration. She looked at the photo once more. The couple was outlined with a heavenly glow through the trees. The moment was perfect. The arch of Goldy's back accentuated the curves of her naked breasts. Jonathan held her so sweetly and her expression of pure bliss sent shivers up Red's spine. She could barely speak over the raw beauty of the photo.

"Gretel... you made me look so beautiful," Goldy almost whispered.

The raven haired photographer was stunned. Her two companions practically drooled over the still. It seemed they appreciated the beauty and splendor of the shot just as much as she had.

"Gretel, may I have this," Goldy asked eagerly.

"I... I can make duplicates. You can both have one if you like," Gretel said.

Red looked as though she had a mischievous thought come to her mind. "I love the idea of that. But if you will excuse me ladies, I must retrieve something from my room before we set off into the woods. I'll meet you in the garden in ten minutes."

* * *

_My apologies for the length of this chapter. I really needed to get this huge chunk of Gretel's story out of the way._


	15. Porridge and Three Beds

Goldy laid the picnic basket down on the ground in front of her. She was determined to carry it for the trip, not letting her large appetite hinder anyone else but herself. Apparently, Red had taken Goldy's hunger into account and had ordered the inn chef to prepare the basket. Goldy was delightfully surprised when a bellhop approached her with it. But now, she took to the task of carrying it on her own, despite its cumbersome weight. Besides, Gretel had her own bulky equipment to deal with.

Gretel walked up next to Goldy and set down her camera and tripod. "Red should be here soon. I must admit I am eager to explore the forest with her," she said.

"She was born here, so she must know all the best places to see and visit," Goldy agreed.

Gretel mused for a moment. "I almost feel as though the woods belong to her."

"That's because they do," Red joked as she approached them from behind.

The two ladies turned and smiled. Red had changed into a less weighty dress but now carried a satchel of her own on her shoulder. It seemed everyone had their fair share to carry.

"What is in your bag there," Gretel asked.

"Now now, Gretel. You would not want to spoil the surprise," Red stated with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, more secrets," Goldy said, eyeing the satchel, "By the end of today, it would be prudent for us to beat all those secrets out of you."

"I'll tell my secrets voluntarily provided that the two of you can keep up," she retorted, starting down the trail. Gretel picked up her camera while Goldy opened her bright blue parasol and gathered up her picnic basket. They followed after Red who was already making good pace. Perhaps keeping up with her would indeed be a task.

"Is there any place in particular you mean to take us," Gretel asked.

"Oh yes, a very special place. It will be a divine spot for a picnic and more stories. I also have my own unique way of enjoying the beauty of this location. You both will simply have to join me in my ritual," Red explained.

Gretel just raised an eyebrow. She did not bother asking for she knew she would find out when they arrived at this special place. Goldy seemed to have the same instinct. Their hostess began to wonder off the trail, so they followed her as she did.

"Goldy, I do believe it is your turn to tell the next chapter of your story," Red brought up, walking through the woods with great confidence.

For a moment, the blonde almost forgot she had to take part in their storytelling game. She thought back for a moment where she had left off.

"I must warn you. My story becomes a bit... gruesome... around this point. My fear is that you will think horribly of me once you know," she said, "I really haven't told anyone this before."

"Then I consider it an honor," Red stated sincerely while stepping over a large log in her way.

"As do I," Gretel chimed in, "And I must remind you that we discussed the importance of telling the truths of our stories."

Goldy remembered the outburst at tea. "Yes, I know. I just wanted to give you fair warning."

"After nearly falling to my death over a ledge, I sat up and looked around. Nothing seemed familiar. The woods were not a common place for a young girl of quality to visit. To be perfectly blunt, I was completely out of my element. There was no chance on God's green earth I was going to survive in the forest. But a haze of denial filled my head and I assumed that walking in any particular direction would lead me to civilization. So that is what I did. I trekked back through the undergrowth in the general direction of where I had been. The idea of walking irritated me, but I certainly had no other choice. My horse was gone and there was little chance of finding him.

Hours went by. I called out for help only to be answered by my own echo. An aching pain of hunger stabbed me in the stomach. There was a clearing in the brush and I immediately sat down to rest. The damage to my baby blue dress was minimal, just a few rips and tears at the bottom where branches and thorns had snagged it. But being as spoiled as I was, I had to roar and complain so the whole forest could hear me. But no one cared. No one was around to care. And this only angered me further. The sun was just about to set. I knew it would be unwise to travel at night. But stories of bears and wolves left a cold feeling of fear and dread in the pit of my stomach. Convinced that one night in the open forest would kill me, I panicked to find some form of shelter. Luckily, the clearing provided a hollowed out stump for me to crawl into. I fell asleep leaning up against the side, my knees tucked under me. I suppose I probably dreamed of home that night and the many comforts I had taken for granted.

I woke to the pins and needles pain in my legs. My body slumped onto the ground and I dragged myself out of the stump. My stomach moaned at me, just as I had griped to the forest the day before. In all my years, food had never evaded me for this long. And never once had I gone without a comfortable bed. This was ridiculous, I told myself. I should not have to endure such indecencies. But for all my bellowing, it did nothing. So I forced myself to get up and make an effort to find home.

I wandered around until the sun was at its highest. I finally found a stream and dunked my head into it. The feeling and taste of the cool water was better than the most expensive wine or the most coveted of fruit. I quenched my thirst and ran my hands through my wet hair. Some of my hair pins immediately fell out, but I did not mind. If my curls wanted to bounce freely as I walked, so be it. I got up and followed the stream, knowing water often led to civilization.

To this day, I still remember the relief I felt when I saw the rugged cottage in the distance. It was no elegant summer home, but it was not quite a shack either. Some might say it had a robust charm, a true handmade style. But for the moment, its architectural significance meant nothing to me. I finally found help. I ran to the cottage and knocked on the door. I fumbled to straighten my dress and pat down my hair, waiting for someone to answer. I knocked on the door again, just to make sure they heard. But after a few minutes and more attempts at knocking, I assumed no one was home. Luckily, the inhabitants had left the door unlocked. The first thing I remember noticing was the stench. The whole house smelt of musk, as though wild animals lived there. The furniture was humble and neatly placed, trimmed with crude handcrafted decorations. I saw no pictures or portraits on the walls, so my host was still unknown to me.

I called out. 'Hello?' But no one answered. 'Excuse me, I really need help,' I called towards the upstairs. But again, no one heard me.

Something in the kitchen was cooking. A lone pot sat on the heated stove. I lifted the lid and found a dish I was familiar with. Porridge. It had never been my favorite morning meal, but it was food. I grabbed a large bowl without thinking and poured myself a generous amount. In fact, most of the porridge was gone by the time I had my fill. Even though it was a crude recipe, it still tasted heavenly. I suppose any food tastes like gourmet when you are starving. The impoliteness of my actions crossed my mind only once, but I dismissed it, assuming my host would be sympathetic to a poor young girl lost in the woods.

The large meal left me sleepy. My eyes grew heavy as I explored the house. Going upstairs, I immediately found the bedroom. Apparently a family of three lived in the cottage, for there were three beds of varying sizes. The father was definitely a large man, for his bed was bigger than any I had seen before. I tried lying on it, but it was ridiculously hard. So I tried the next bed, obviously belonging to the mother. Hers was the only decorative bedding, attempting to add some esthetic to the room. But my entire body was engulfed by the comforter and the sheets. The bed was simply just too soft. So what was left for me but the third, smallest bed? Truthfully, it seemed to be the only normal sized bed among the three. I snuggled underneath the covers, admiring how this bed was just right. I felt no inhibitions about falling asleep in a stranger's bed. As far as I was concerned, I deserved it after surviving a night in the forest.

'Someone is sleeping in my bed.'

I will never forget these words. They signify the moment my life changed forever. I opened my eyes and looked around. Three faces looked down at me; a large ugly man, a grizzly-looking woman, and a young man about my age. I yelped and sat up in bed.

'Who are you,' the giant man growled at me.

'I... I'm Goldy Locks,' I squeaked. Never had I been so scared before. All three leaned in really close, as if they wanted to smell me. I tried to retreat by climbing out of bed. But I was still trapped by the wall on the other side.

'Who do you think you are, coming into our home, stealing our porridge, and desecrating our beds,' the woman hissed at me.

'I... I'm sorry, I just...,' I tried to explain.

'Oh, you ain't sorry! Not yet,' the giant man bellowed at me.

With one swift motion, he grabbed my arm roughly and yanked me clear over the bed. A scream escaped my lips at the rash action. 'Please! I was lost in the woods and I...'

'Shut up,' the man hollered. With his free hand, he backhanded me across the face. I fell to the floor, holding my cheek in pain, gasping slightly as tears filled my eyes. The young man knelt down beside me and put his hands on my shoulders, staring up at his father.

'Paw, you don't have to do this,' he begged, 'I'm sure she's real sorry.'

'You shut up too Junior, less you wanna join her,' he barked at his son. He bent down and grabbed me by the front of my dress, lifting me up as if I weighed nothing at all. 'This little home wrecker needs to be taught some manners.'

'Take your time,' the mother said, turning to leave the room, 'Thanks to that little harlot, I have to make supper all over again.'

It all happened so fast. The first blow came down on my face. After that, I just remember pain all over my body. I was thrown against practically everything; walls, bed frames, a mirror. As my head hit against the corner of the room, I heard a nauseating crack sound. I sunk down to the floor barely conscious. Then came the kicking. I felt his giant boot slam into me over and over. All breath left me and I struggled for air, coughing and sputtering as if someone were choking me. I was so sure I was going to die. I could feel a dark cloudiness surround me, muffling my ears and blurring my vision. I only recall hearing the son scream before I completely blacked out."

The story resembled the most horrific of nightmares. Red and Gretel looked at her, stricken with terror. "My dear Goldy! You have never told anyone of this?"

Goldy could only shake her head. "No one until now," she said, her voice starting to crack. A single tear fell from her eye. Her composure began to break.

Red wrapped her arms around her, Gretel soon following. Goldy practically collapsed into them, letting their strength hold her up as she caved in. Her tears stained Red's dress, but the young innkeeper did not mind. "It's alright," Red whispered, "You are not alone."


	16. The Woodsman

"Gretel dear, sit next to me so I can style your hair," Goldy said, having laid out the picnic blanket.

"I doubt even you with your cosmetic expertise could do anything with these locks," Gretel stated sitting down next to Goldy.

"Nonsense. I have never met a mane I could not tame," Goldy laughed. It was comforting to see her in good spirits, especially after her breakdown from the telling of her story.

Red's special clearing in the forest was indeed breathtaking. The grassy glade sat along the edge of the Scarlet River, thousands of wild flowers trimming the banks like lace on a dress. The prominent sweet scent that engulfed the forest attracted butterflies of incomparable beauty. They wafted on the breeze, effortlessly flittering from one blossom to another. A friendly butterfly of glorious red perched itself on Goldy's yellow curls.

"I do believe a fairy has taken notice of your golden locks, my dear," Red admired.

Goldy raised a hand to the bushel of curls pinned behind her head. The little pixie fluttered about into the air. Goldy laughed at the charming sight.

"Ladies, I have a surprise for you," Red stated, "Since it is my turn in our storytelling venture, I brought along a dear friend of mine to help illustrate my tale." The other two ladies began scanning around the trees, searching for a visitor to greet. But instead, Red reached into her satchel and carefully revealed a staggering sight, a velvet cloak of magnificent red.

Goldy gasped and got to her feet. She rushed over and took the material in her hands. "Is this the famous red hood?"

"The one and only," Red proudly stated.

Gretel scrambled to her feet and also reached out to touch it. "This is the exact one from your story?"

"It most certainly is," the innkeeper said. She tied it around her neck and straightened it over her shoulders. The two others watched as she lifted the hood up over her head, placing it just atop her hair as she had done countless times before.

"I can see why you rarely took it off as a child. Even still, it surprises me you do not wear it now," Goldy commented, "It increases your beauty tenfold, my dear."

Red smiled and twirled a little to feel the material dance around her body. "I tend to save this cape for special affairs, usually in private. You see, it hold so many memories for me, good and bad. Sometimes I feel it would give away all my secrets if anyone laid eyes on it. A ridiculous fear, I know." Her eyes drifted off in a sad daze, caressing her cheek with the soft material. A memory had clearly gripped her.

"Red," Gretel said wispily, "Do you want to tell the rest of your story?"

It took Red a moment to come back from her trance. She blinked softly. "Yes, of course."

Gretel and Goldy returned to the picnic blanket, eager to hear more about Red and her brilliant cloak.

"I was just about to turn eighteen," Red began, still hugging the cape to her body for comfort, "There was nothing special about this particular trip to the village. I was just going to drop off some of my mother's homemade jam at a friend's business. But a group of the village's biggest gossips had gathered on the side of the road, looking up at a bulletin board and clamoring on about some piece of parchment that had been posted. I wandered over to see what the commotion was all about.

'Oh, Red! Did you hear,' a girl asked me in a fit.

'What is going on,' I asked.

Three girls anxiously turned around to answer my question.

'A criminal!'

'He escaped from a neighboring village!'

'They say he's wandering about in our woods!'

They sounded like clucking hens fighting over freshly thrown feed. I pushed past them to read the posted bill myself. Surely enough, it was a public notice of warning. A man of criminal nature escaped from his entrapment in a village miles away from ours. His name was not known, but he was charged with murder and kidnapping. Officials calculated that he might be hiding in our woods.

The girls continued to panic and tittle-tattle over the news. One suggested the horror of meeting the criminal in the woods. 'Suppose he would kill again!'

'Suppose he kidnaps a girl!'

'Suppose he violates one of you,' I stated blandly in the midst of their gaggle. This of course caused them to shriek at me for suggesting such a horrible thing. But they were all thinking about it. Every young girl thought about going to bed with a man, but no one ever dare speak about it. And the wicked idea of a criminal coming to steal them away in the night only fueled the flames of lustful thoughts. But I kept my head on straight while the other girls lost theirs. I considered myself brave and strong, just as mother and father had raised me. Any fear I had must be cast aside and left behind. After all, I had a very important job to do; taking care of my grandmother so my own mother could work.

I left the village that day holding my head high. What nonsense, being scared over a man who was probably miles away from here. But it was hard to ignore the talk, as inflated as it was. Suppose the scoundrel was hiding behind a tree, watching me this very moment. I would be excellent prey after all; a vulnerable young lady walking in the forest alone. This realization suddenly made the woods seem much more diabolical. Any rock or tree could conceal the murderer. His job would only be made easier if he carried a knife or a gun. I could almost feel it, the sting of a blade in my back. My blood would soak the forest floor and no one would know until the fiend was done with me. I heard the snap of a twig and jumped at the sound, not realizing that my own step had caused it. I continued walking, looking around with a deep sense of paranoia. As my house grew closer and closer, my pace quickened. By the time I made it to the front door of my home, I was running full speed.

The next day, I got up begrudgingly to visit grandma. With my red hood over my head and a basket of food at my side, I started off down my normal path. Just stay on the trail, I told myself. Mother had offered me the same advice as well as a long blade to hide in my basket. But it offered little comfort. I was no warrior. I had never fought anyone before, much less used a knife in self defense. If anything, I drew more strength from my cape. The material over my face and shoulders felt like a shield, offering some hope of protection. And as always, the cloak reminded me of what I had promised my mother. I must be strong.

'Well, if it isn't Little Red Riding Hood," a voice said.

I must have jumped two feet in the air. I reached for my knife, fumbling through the contents of the basket to find it.

'Woah,' said the same voice, 'It's me, Daniel.'

I looked over and saw a familiar face. It was Daniel Hollows, the son of the village carpenter. Nowadays, he spent most of his time in the forest. He worked almost as his father's own personal woodsman, chopping down trees for use in the shop. He stood there looking at me without his shirt and his axe at his side. He had worked up a noticeable sweat, for his chest and brow glistened in the sun.

'Apparently, you heard about the murderer cavorting about in the woods,' he said with a devilish smile.

I glared at him, snorted in a huff, and gathered my basket. 'Mind yourself, Daniel. You are liable to be stabbed surprising people like that," I scolded him. I had no reservations about talking down to him. You see, ever since he was a child, he was known in the village for being a troublemaker. When he was young, he use to run up to me and yank my hood down. I never really forgave him for the teasing, mostly because he showed no remorse for it. Now that he was almost nineteen, he was better known for his terrible social graces and his unstoppable lust for the village girls. Admittedly so, he was a handsome boy. So some girls tolerated his forward advances, almost flattered that a good-looking boy thought they were beautiful. He never tried it on me though. To him, I was the odd one with the red hood. Nothing worth getting excited about, or so I assumed.

I took a few steps forward after telling him off. 'Aw, don't leave in a huff, my dear,' he said, jumping down in front of me. He had a very strong smell about him, though it was not particularly unpleasant. In fact, I almost liked it.

'If you are scared, I would be happy to escort you to your destination,' he said, giving me a Brom Bones smile. I squinted my eyes in suspicion.

'With you, Daniel, there is always a catch,' I said, stepping around him. But he put a hand on my shoulder and turned me around.

'No catch, Red. Though a reward for my good deed would not be entirely out of the question.'

'I'll have nothing of your _good deeds_, Daniel Hollows,' I growled, 'Your swift talk might work on the other dainty lilies of the village, but I am no flower. Good day.'

I stepped around him once more. After a few steps down the trail, I heard him call out one last thing to me. 'Watch out for wolves,' he taunted.

Wolves? I was not afraid of wolves. However, I soon realized he was really speaking of the murderer. It was a fitting comparison though. The scoundrel could be stalking me, watching from the bushes; his hungry eyes looking over my frame for the most tender bits. I walked and contemplated the notion. Would he strike from behind? Would he grab me first, or just sink his long, sharp blade into my skin? If he were a madman, he would assuredly feast on my flesh. He might even keep me alive and force me to watch as he devoured my meat and bones.

These thoughts made me sick to my stomach. And that is probably why I turned around and headed back. Daniel at first did not notice my approach, but he turned around when he heard my footsteps. I could not look him in the eyes, I was so ashamed and frustrated.

He smiled evilly at me. 'Come back to take me up on my offer?'

'What do you want in exchange for an escort,' I asked reluctantly. I knew what the answer would be.

'Just come over here,' he said, leading me to the stump where he had been chopping wood. He sat me down on it and threw his axe to the side. He knelt down in front of me, waiting for me to look at him. I would not. So he gently took my lower jaw in his hand and guided my face to his. My heart began to race.

'Are you certain about this,' he asked, showing one glimpse of chivalry. It almost surprised me. By now, I should have been on the ground with the top half of my dress pulled down around my waist. But he waited. He waited for my final consent almost like a gentleman.

I looked into his eyes finally. His gaze was warm and inviting. But I still could not help but cry. Tears ran down my face as I nodded. He smiled and placed a tender kiss on my lips. I simply received it, making no effort in the passionate interaction. He pulled away slightly and brushed away a fallen tear from my cheek. He placed a trail of kisses where the droplet had graced my face. I wondered if he could taste the saltiness on my skin. He returned to my lips, cradling the back of my head in a lose grip. He was holding back, I could tell. Perhaps he was trying to be sweet and tender so he would not frighten me off. This consideration he had for me made it easier to warm up to him. Soon, I was moving to meet his kisses instead of just receiving them.

He grabbed my wrist and placed my hand on his bare chest. Even when he let go of me, I let my open palm remain there. I had never touched a man this way before. It sent a shiver up my spin and I explored his chest with both hands to intensify the feeling. He moved away slightly to tease me. I leaned towards him so far that I slid right off the stump and fell to my knees in front of him. He moved towards me, kissing and nipping my neck. His lips touched my red cape, so I scrambled to untie it. But he put his hand on mine to stop me.

'No, leave the cape on,' he whispered. My lower back tightened and I gasped in pleasure at the command. I discovered in that moment that the cape was more than just my strength and my shield. The cape was me. Everything I was was imbedded into that red hood. And when he implored me to leave it on, it was as though he wanted _me_, not just my body.

He unlaced my dress as he kissed me. He pulled it down, surprised to see I had no undershirt or corset on. It certainly made his job easier. Grabbing the bottom of my dress, he pulled the entire outfit off, leaving me completely bare aside from my red cape. He lightly touched my chest, pushing me down to the ground. I lay on my back as he licked all around my breasts. His free hand rubbed my inner thigh, stopping just before he touched my womanhood. I could not control my breathing. My heaving chest clearly excited him because he became more earnest in his oral pleasuring. He took my nipple in his mouth and sucked it roughly. That's when he rubbed my vagina with two fingers. My breath got caught in my throat when he did. He removed his hand and showed me.

'Look how wet you are,' he said. His fingers glistened with my fluids but I did not know what he meant.

'W-wet?' I asked innocently.

'Women get wet between their legs when they are aroused,' he explained, 'I think you are ready.'

I had only heard from my mother how making love worked. So when he said I was ready, my heart jumped into my throat. He began to undo his pants. After throwing his trousers aside, he showed me his affair. A long mushroom. That was my first thought. He cradled it in his hands as I had seen the butcher make sausage before. He was considerate to let me stare at it for so long. After a few moments, the question finally came up.

'Are you ready,' he asked.

I paused, almost in shock. My whole body shivered. After swallowing hard, I could only nod my head.

His smile calmed me a bit. He leaned down and kissed me. Suddenly, while his lips caressed mine, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my nether regions. My entire body tensed up and I moaned against his lips. The entire length of it was in. He stopped, waiting for me to relax. It was hard. He was not even moving it and I writhed around beneath him. But my body made room after about a minute. The pain eased and I stopped flailing. My breath shuddered, beads of sweat falling from my brow. Daniel's patience was surprising and admirable.

'I'm going to move it now,' he said, 'Okay?'

'Okay,' I gasped, putting my arms around his neck as if to brace myself.

His hips began moving. The pain came back, though not as intense as before. I yelped with each thrust. He started off slow but gradually picked up his pace, sensing when I could take the pain. My fingernails dug into his back. He must have liked it because he moaned in pleasure and went faster. I could feel something inside of me, a heat all over my body and a fluttering in my stomach starting to intensify. My toes curled and I bucked my hips against him in time with his movements.

He suddenly stopped and pulled himself out of me. I felt a string of liquid fall over the front of me as he moaned loudly. But before I could ask what happened, he stuck his fingers where his affair had just been. He clearly knew exactly what he was doing, for he picked up where he had left off. The same strange feeling came over me again. It grew bigger and more fierce. He pulled his fingers out of me and and just began rubbing. And that's when it happened. Everything in me suddenly just burst. My back arched up off the ground and I practically screamed. I fell back to the forest floor, overcome by a feeling of pure bliss. I felt as though I had run a mile. When I opened my eyes, Daniel was over me, staring at me as if I were the most beautiful thing in the world. He placed one last kiss on my lips before rolling off of me. I was still lying on my back when I felt him put a handkerchief in my hand.

'You should clean yourself up,' he said.

I sat up and looked down the front of me. Droplets of white sticky liquid had dried all over my torso. I did not know what it was. I asked Daniel and he explained to me what semen was. I was disgusted, yet strangely aroused by the idea. But that did not mean I wasn't glad to be rid of the menacing liquid when I wiped it away.

Being curious, I reached down and touched myself. My fingers were as crimson as my cape. Daniel told me all virgins bleed on their first time. I suppose that is when it hit me hardest. It was gone for good. Tears welled up in my eyes and I sniffled a bit, putting on my clothes. When I was fully clothed the tears really began to fall. I wept softly, trying to find my basket.

Daniel came up behind me and hugged me tightly. He placed a strong kiss on my cheek. This was a new side to him that I had never seen before. I wiped away my tears, picked up my basket, and took his arm. There was a strange silence between the two of us for the walk to grandma's house. He walked tall, occasionally leading me around logs and puddles. I at least had to be grateful to him for taking my mind off the murderer. And for the moment, despite our past grievances, he was mine. My own tall, handsome woodsman."

Gretel and Goldy looked on intensely, as if they had been hanging on to every word with fervid desperation.

Their stare confused Red for a moment. Perhaps she had overestimated their willingness to listen to such vulgarity.

"I believe we got far more than we bargained for, wouldn't you say, Goldy," Gretel smiled.

"All I know is I feel really warm right now," Goldy said, fanning herself.

Red laughed a little. "Well if both of you are so hot, let us cool off in the river. I'll show you what fun there is to have in my special glade."

* * *

_Longest chapter to date. Hope you all enjoyed this part of Red's story_.


	17. The Scarlet River

The river sounded just as it always did, babbling along with a steady rhythm. But Red had always fancied how the river sounded when she held her ears below the surface of the water. To her, the muffled waves and trickling were music. She had had a long affair with her lover, the Scarlet River. Floating along, she listened to the water serenade her with whispers and trills. The cool nip of the river washed over her naked frame, caressing her body as though it were making love to her. She sighed and smiled. But an outside voice disrupted the symphony of river music below the surface. Red lifted her head out of the water.

"Red! Red dear! Are you certain there are no snakes in the water?"

"Yes, Goldy. And cast away that towel. You cannot swim with it," Red stated firmly.

Goldy was on the bank, wrapped modestly in a towel. She still had her insecurities about nudity. Gretel, on the other hand, walked up beside her completely stark naked. Goldy turned to look at the raven haired girl and immediately squealed in surprise.

"Oh, Gretel! You should warn people when you are going to do that!"

Her bashfulness was quite humorous. Gretel laughed aloud at the blonde. "Come now, Goldy. We should join the fun!"

Gretel recklessly grabbed Goldy's towel and yanked it off her. Goldy screamed and made an unsuccessful attempt to hide herself. Red laughed at the comical display. "Leave Goldy alone, Gretel. She will jump in when she feels like it."

Gretel smiled impishly and leapt a good distance into the cold water. The sudden chill caused her to shriek and gasp for air. "This is as cold as the streams back home!"

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her foot, pulling her under for a moment. Her head bobbed back up and she laughed in delight. "Red! You beastly thing, you!

Red's head broke the surface and she joined in the mad laughter. Noticing Goldy still observing on the bank, she motioned to her to come in. The blonde shyly dunked a toe into the river, shivering at the temperature. She slowly waded into the chilly water, gasping as it lapped up against the small of her back. But her cautious ways were all for not because a giant splash engulfed her entirely. She squealed loudly.

"Gretel! You common whelp," she yelled out, wrapping her arms around her chest. But the insult only made the other two roar with laughter.

The three ladies splashed around for a while, dunking each other and making great waves. Red grabbed a particularly lovely blossom from the bank and began picking away at the petals. She dropped each one onto the surface of the water and admired how they rode the slow current like little boats.

"Red, what is the name of the river," Goldy asked.

"The Scarlet River," she answered, still fiddling with the flower petals.

"Why is it called the Scarlet River," Gretel asked offhandedly.

Red smiled at the question. She slipped under the water elegantly and returned with a river stone as red as an apple. "The bottom of the river is covered with these special red stones," she said, swimming over to them so they could see. "They are red because of a special mineral in them called hematite. And at a very specific time of day, the sun shines on the river just right, making the water look red as blood."

Her companions' eyes grew wide. "What time of day does this happen?" Gretel wanted to know.

Red's dangerous smile appeared yet again. "Right about... now," she said.

Gretel and Goldy looked around at the surface of the water. They gasped loudly when they realized they were now swimming in a sea of red. Or at least it looked that way from the surface. The water had not changed, but it glistened as though Moses himself had dipped his staff into the river, causing it to cloud over with blood. They all stood up to see the effect better.

"I have never seen anything as miraculous as this," Gretel sighed, enjoying how her thighs looked wading through bloody water.

"I dare say you planned this," Goldy said, holding water in her cupped hands.

Red shook her head with a smile. "Only God could have planned it so perfectly."

Goldy swam along carelessly. "Red I must say, your story is still on my mind. If you had not spoken of your relation with that young woodsman, I might have been afraid to continue my own tale."

"The feeling is mutual," Gretel stated, swimming along side Goldy, "I had my fair share of sexual experiences in my younger years."

"I am glad my bravery is contagious. Only now, I am far more anxious to hear the rest of your stories," Red replied.

"Patience is a virtue, Red," Gretel stated, "And I have yet to take one photo on our outing. That will not do at all."

"Indeed it will not," Red agreed, "I insist you document this magical day."

Gretel thought on that notion. "Perhaps I should do that now before I lose my light. Besides, we have yet to eat the fine meal your chef prepared for us."

Goldy stood up at this realization. "I am in complete agreement. Let us venture back to our picnic spot."

Red smiled as the two made their way back to the shore. She watched their naked frames rise from the water, glistening and radiant. Her smile only grew when she noticed neither one seemed as modest as before. They indiscreetly dried their bodies off with towels and made little fuss about hiding themselves. And as Red said a small goodbye to her lover, the Scarlet River, she walked undaunted towards her friends, enjoying the fresh feeling of soulful renewal.


	18. Camera Works

The camera shutter clicked softly. A dazzling moment of sunbeams on the river surface had been saved. Only six or seven exposure plates had been used. Gretel had captured the glade, the Scarlet River, trees, and a distance peak. As lovely as they all were, she looked around for a new subject. Her eye was caught by a charming scene taking place. Red sat on the picnic blanket with Goldy, both ladies rather engaged in a cheery conversation. A crimson hood covered the innkeeper's otherwise naked body, while the blonde loosely hung a towel around her shoulders as her only garb. They leaned in close to each other, smiling as bright as the sun on their faces. Such a moment had to be saved.

Gretel slipped in a fresh exposure plate. She carefully centered the two women in the frame and focused the bellows. With one click of her shutter release, the moment had been caught.

"Gretel dear, if you wanted to take photos of us, you need only ask," Red stated with a smile.

"You have the ears of a trained animal," Gretel called to her, "But would you mind terribly if I took more?"

"Not at all," Red stated, "In fact, come closer and I will offer you a real model."

The photographer picked up her equipment and positioned it much closer to her model. She pointed it downward at the picnic blanket, holding Red in frame as she laid on her back, surrounded by her outstretched cape. Red relaxed her arms above her head, looking into the camera lens. Goldy had moved aside, not wanting to ruin a perfect shot of the innkeeper and her famous red hood. Besides, her lusty, candid photo was exquisite enough.

Gretel hid beneath the black cloth and focused the shot. "This must be what Daniel saw," she observed.

"Daniel had the privilege to see me before my age and bad habits ruined me," Red joked.

"Nonsense," Gretel disagreed, "You could not possibly be more lovely than you are now."

Red smiled at the compliment. She stared at the orb-like lens, her eyes tense and piercing. For a moment, the shot staggered the young photographer beneath the black cloth. This was not a pose nor the superficial stare of a paid model. Red's wolfish eyes seemed to gape past the thick lens and clunky equipment. Gretel could feel the gaze on her. And honestly, it made her rather uncomfortable.

The shutter snapped. Gretel released her breath. "Stunning, I must say."

"It would be far better if Goldy joined me," Red stated, looking over at her blonde companion, "I must insist, dear."

Goldy hesitated at first, but slowly threw her towel aside and laid down next to Red. She felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her in closer. Red closed the gap between them until they resembled two forest nymphs cuddling in the midday sun. However, the shot felt incomplete.

"Gretel, grab your shutter release and lie with me on my other side," Red commanded.

The idea threw Gretel off balance at first, but she agreed that a third model would make the photo. With a few adjustments of the camera, she made room for herself in the frame. Red outstretched her arm to her and pulled her in close as well. Gretel rested her head on the innkeeper's shoulder, hiding the shutter release button strategically. Goldy turned slightly on her side inward, resting her hand on Red's shoulder. She did not mind the proximity. Together with them, she felt radiant. They were three goddesses, a sisterhood of devotion and beauty. Their bodies conformed to each others' perfectly, all three skin tones meshing into one. They stared up into the camera, almost forgetting to breathe.

"One, two... three," Gretel whispered. She clicked her hidden shutter release.

All three ladies released their breath and laughed a little. Red looked at each of her friends, smiling and full of light. The other two rolled off her cape so she could get up. Sitting up on her haunches, she straightened her hood as Goldy found her towel and Gretel changed exposure plates on her camera.

Suddenly, Red's head snapped to the left, her eyes violently darting around and searching in the nearby trees. Like a mad gust of wind, she reached into her satchel, retrieved two knives, and jumped to her feet. She stood with her knees bent, one knife outstretched at full arms length and the other by her face, all pointing towards the trees. She resembled a hissing cat, ready to take on an enemy.

"Red! What is it," Goldy asked, obviously frightened by the rash action.

"Shhhh," Red hushed.

Three seconds of silence ticked by. But it was broken by the sound of rustling leaves. Goldy grabbed her towel and covered herself in fear. Gretel placed her camera between her and the haunting sound. But Red held her ground, despite the only clothing she wore being her red cloak.

"What could it be?"

"Could be a wolf," Red stated.

"A bear," Goldy suggested nervously.

"Or perhaps a witch."

Red threw a perplexed look at Gretel for the strange implication, but returned her attention to the dense trees. A darkened figure flashed through the foliage for only a second but was gone before it could be identified.

"Ladies, cloth yourselves and gather your things. We are no longer safe," Red stated firmly, lowering her knives.

Goldy immediately grabbed her dress and frantically put it on. Gretel was more worried about her equipment and plates. Red just stood there for a few more seconds with a menacing glare, her eyes searching the trees as if to pass on a warning to the intruder. Satisfied for the moment, she sloppily threw her dress back on and packed her satchel. However, her red cape remained on her shoulders.

Goldy picked up her basket and parasol while Gretel's camera and plate bag weighed down her shoulders significantly. With a knife in her hand, Red led the way back to the trail. The walk was as quiet as ever, no interruptions or further intruders. But the ladies remained silent, still listening for possible dangers. The inn was a reassuring sight. And as they approached the doors, Red addressed her companions.

"I fear I might have been overzealous in my actions," she admitted, "For all we know, an innocent creature of the forest played on our fears."

"No no," Gretel assured her, "You acted sanely, my dear. With devious scoundrels on the loose you can never be too careful."

"I would rather our fun end prematurely than risk being a victim of another attack," Goldy agreed.

"Let us hope that tomorrow is free of interruptions," Red stated.

"My only hope is to hear more stories," Goldy smiled, "I have grown rather fond of your bad influences."


	19. A Favor on the Balcony

The sky was burning hot with the colors of the sunset. Crickets and frogs united together in a nighttime symphony of sounds. A lone firefly danced about on the private balcony. It seemed lost, Red concluded to herself; a feeling she could sympathize with. She sat in her rocking chair facing the setting sun. One leg rested on the wooden balcony railing while the other lazily dangled over the arm of the chair. The oil lamp on the side table burned dimly, just enough to bathe Red is a warm glow. Beside it sat a wine glass, gripped loosely in the innkeeper's hand. But no water filled the crystal cup. A potent red wine topped it off this evening. Red touched the roof of her mouth with her tongue, still feeling the familiar bittersweet taste on her palette. She raised the glass to her lips again and allowed herself a generous swig. The liquid poured down her throat with ease, never settling in her mouth or turning her stomach. She was no stranger to the risky drink. Her bad habits had resurfaced in light of her mood.

"Madame?"

Red's mind scattered upon hearing the voice. She looked behind her lazily. A tall inn employee stood in the doorframe.

"Jacques," she said with a small grin, "Hello."

"You sent for me, Madame," he asked her uneasily.

"Yes, yes," she said gently, "Come over here."

The young man approached her chair, but was startled to see that his Madame was completely bare aside from her red cloak. He noticed the wine glass in her hand and sighed desolately. Not again, he thought. He stood next to her chair, turning his eyes away and looking at the distant sunset.

Red glanced up at him. He was unchanged by his six years of service. His orange hair was the same, as well as his slightly bent nose. Broken in an accident, he once confided in her. Now it permanently jutted outwards just under the bridge. But Red did not care. He was a fine young man indeed, now the manager of the custodial staff. But when he first arrived he started off lower on the employment ladder, much lower.

"Jacques," Red stated, "What does one do when they feel as though they've lost control?"

The question confused him for a moment. He thought about how to answer it. "W-well, I suppose one should try to regain control."

Red sighed. "Could it really be that simple?"

"Does this have anything to do with the escaped outlaw, Madame," Jacques asked.

She smirked at his observant nature. "I must have it written on my forehead."

"It is understandable for you to be concerned, Madame. Any decent innkeeper would worry over the safety of her guests," he assured her.

"Spineless bastard," Red huffed beneath her breath. She was clearly off in her own head. "To think I let this happen again in my woods. Vicious animals stalking my guests and companions," she continued.

Jacques listened to her fume. But while she did, he had difficulty keeping his eyes to himself. His mouth watered at the sight of his Madame, her legs splayed out just as he had seen them many times before. Hints of her familiar bodily aroma filled his senses even at the distance he stood.

Red paused for an uncomfortable while. She swiveled the red wine around in the glass, thinking to herself. "Jacques," she broke the silence, "I know you recall our nights on this balcony. And in light of these frustrating circumstances, I need you to do me a favor."

A gasp inadvertently escaped him. He cleared his throat immediately, covering for his impulsive reaction. But Red was not fooled. She could see it.

She adjusted her weight slightly, opening her legs even further. His telltale desire was further cemented when she caught him trying to steal a look. "You know how I like it," Red breathed, giving him her signature stare.

His chest heaved. With a slight nod, he fell down to his knees in front of her.

"Remove you shirt," Red commanded, "It's so much better that way."

He did as he was told, ripping his top off and throwing it to the side. Grabbing under her outstretched thighs, he breathed in her scent. The primal smell made him shudder and beg for the familiar taste of his Madame's womanhood. He buried his face in her flesh, his tongue flickering over her vaginal lips. She gasped at the sensation, holding one of her soft breasts in her hand. She refused to relinquish her grip on the wine glass but steadied it by holding it firmly on the table.

Jacques continued his mad devouring but managed to slip two fingers into her as he worked. The rhythmic movements of his hand and tongue together made Red arch her back in delight. She moaned softly, feeling herself start to grow warm. Jacques' fingers slid in and out steadily, thrusting as though his own member were inside her. He could feel her walls tighten as her whole body tensed. His fingers were drenched in her fluids. Removing them, he began lapping at her like a dog, taking her soft pinkness between his lips.

Red put her hand on the back of his head, guiding him to just the right place. Her whole body contorted against his face. The climax was nearing. Sensing this, Jacques feverishly quickened his actions, desperate to make his Madame happy. And with a few more strategic licks, Red's entire body jolted forward and she let a scream pass over her lips. Her movements caused the wine glass to tip over in her hand, spilling the thick red liquid all over the table and floor.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Jacques apologized with bated breath.

"No," Red gasped, "It's alright."

Jacques returned to her, taking a few more laps from her womanhood and swallowing down her plentiful wetness.

Red smiled as she watched him finish her off, reluctant to stop him. But he had done his duty. She put a hand underneath his chin and raised his face up. His eyes were glassy with desire; devoted and steadfast in his commitment to her. How he had missed these moments.

She leaned down and kissed him lightly, tasting herself on his lips. "Dear Jacques, you have not lost your talent," she commended him.

"Thank you, Madame Primrose," he said breathlessly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, you have done more than enough," Red stated, her chest moving up and down, "You are welcome to freshen up in my washroom if you so desire."

"Well, perhaps I'll wash my face," he said finding his shirt and putting it back on.

"Certainly," Red stated, watching him walk to her room. "And Jacques..."

He looked over his shoulder.

"Thank you. I appreciate it more than you know."

On the other side of the inn, an open balcony door bore witness to a distant scream. Gretel paused in her photo development and poked her head out into the night air. She listened carefully, wondering if another would follow. But after a moment of silence, she shrugged her shoulders and returned to her work. More photos hung from white strings, drying slowing in the darkened room. Gretel hung one last photo, admiring the three beautiful ladies staring back at her. With a satisfied smile, she walked over to her camera so she could clean it. However, there was an exposure plate let inside. She nonchalantly lifted it from the camera and looked at it, expecting it to be clean. But she blinked in realization that it had been used.

She took the plate over to her table of chemicals and began her task of developing the photo. Dunking the photo into a tray of water to neutralize the acids, the picture became clear.

Gretel gasped loudly, holding up the picture so she could see it better. The subject was not centered perfectly, but his face was as clear as a bell. This was the figure they had seen, the reason why Red jumped to her feet to defend them with her vicious blades. Gretel's eyes watered as she realized what must have happened. In her state of fright, she had moved her camera in front of her for protection. The shock of seeing the darkened figure run by must have caused her to click her shutter release by mistake. And now, his identity was captured in her fortuitous photo. Her face paled in recognition of him. Clipping the photo up on a line to dry, she sat down on her bed, her breath quick and upset.

She dared not turn on the light and ruin the photo. All she could do now was sleep, if such a feat was possible. Morning could not come soon enough. Red and Goldy must know.


	20. The Monster Has a Name

Sleep never came for Gretel. As much as she tried to settle her thoughts, it was impossible. The photo stared her down all night, as though her attacker would jump from the very image and defile her again. Pacing the floor did nothing but rattled her further. And even considering how tired she was, lying down in bed only gave her time to think. Several times, the incident with her attacker replayed in her mind, but she also thought of home, her new friends, and especially Hansel. The clock's ticking was maddening. She rose every so often to check the horizon for the warm red haze of the approaching sunrise. And when the smallest glint of the sun showed over the trees, Gretel grabbed the photo and rushed down the hallway.

She knocked on Red's door frantically, rocking on her heals in anxiety. A short moment of inaction passed before she knocked again even louder than before.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a very tired Red. Her bed sheets were wrapped loosely around her body. She looked at Gretel in groggy surprise, having expected one of her employees. She rubbed her eye and yawned.

"Gretel? What are you doing up? It's barely morning," she asked.

"I am very sorry, Red, but it just could not wait," Gretel stated, "May I come in?"

"Yes, certainly," Red said, opening the door wider.

Gretel rushed in as though she had been chased down the hallway. Turning around, she said, "Red, you remember what happened yesterday, when you heard something in the woods."

"Of course I remember," Red yawned, still incredibly disoriented and lethargic.

"Well... As it turns out, I accidently took a photo at that moment," she said, "And look what I captured."

Gretel handed the photo to Red, her hands shaking as she did. Red blinked a few times, trying to focus her eyes. She squinted at the poorly centered photo but managed to pick out a very clear face. Her eyes grew wide and her brow furrowed. "Is that...," she paused.

"Yes, it is. It's the same deviant that attacked me. He was watching us in the woods," Gretel said, rubbing her arms to comfort herself.

Red scowled at the photo before she sighed and tossed it on the dresser. She sat on her bed and thought for a moment. Her composure was remarkably calm considering what she had just learned. Her eyes darted around in her thought but she blinked slowly. Her weariness clearly restrained her.

"I'll send for the police again. We will show them the photo if they decide to show their faces," Red stated, still staring out as though she were searching the skyline.

"What? I thought they were already coming," Gretel exclaimed.

"Often times, the police decide my inn is not worth the long distance travel," Red explained, "It takes two or three days for them to get here. And most of the time they can do nothing once they arrive."

Gretel suddenly felt as though she were carrying a giant weight, as heavy as ten cameras on her shoulders. An aching pain consumed her chest, forcing her to sit down on the chaise longue. Her racing pulse only fueled her sudden sense of dread. She put a hand to her heaving chest. The noise of her breathing was enough to break Red from her thoughts.

"Calm yourself, Gretel," she commanded lightly, "You are safe with me."

"How very modest of you to say so," Gretel bit back sarcastically.

The aggressive tone was uncharacteristic of the raven-haired German. Red glanced at her in annoyance but finally noticed Gretel's tired, sullied appearance. Yesterday's dress still clothed her and her hair was wildly disarrayed. Dark patches hung beneath her eyes while the rest of her face remained pale. She was an absolute mess.

"Gretel," Red said softly, "Did you sleep at all last night?"

Gretel could not answer for a moment, realizing that her drowsy facade must have given her away. "No... I guess I did not," she admitted.

Red sighed. She stood and lifted the heavy blanket, pulling it back just enough for someone to crawl into bed. "Before we do anything, you and I need more sleep."

There was a hint of defiance from Gretel. She looked over on top of the dresser where the photo lay. But a collection of freshly opened wine bottles also caught her eye. There were at least six, all empty. A crystal glass stood beside them, filled halfway with the remaining red wine. Gretel looked to Red sternly. "Red, what were those old bad habits you spoke of in the forest?"

Red was undaunted by the question, staring at Gretel as if she had asked for the time. "I must continue my story before you can know that. Now come to bed."

Gretel breathed in heavily, knowing she would receive nothing more than that, at least for the moment. She rose and lifted her dress over her head. She threw it aside and hopped into bed, letting Red adjust the covers over her. The innkeeper walked around to the other side and nestled under the comforter. The two women gathered together beneath the sheets, enjoying the warmth their two bodies created. A large breath left Gretel. Acclaim had to be given to Red for the feeling of security she created. For not too long after her head hit the pillow, Gretel drifted off. Red smiled a little and let herself fall asleep as well. There would be plenty of time to talk of the photo later.

A few hours passed. The hotel was bustling with its usual business. Waiters served breakfast in the restaurant and the tea room. Maids began their long tasks of cleaning the guest rooms. And of course, the inn security kept a weather eye out for trouble, including the runaway assailant. Red certainly ran her inn like a well oiled machine. Often times the inn practically managed itself, leaving her with long periods of boredom. Her new companions made a fine diversion.

Goldy was pressed and dressed nicely, her curls still bouncing rhythmically as she strolled down the hallway. Her bear-like appetite drove her to walk faster, having made plans to meet in Red's suite for a large breakfast. She was so focused that she almost did not notice a friendly face in the corridor.

"Hello, Goldy," Jonathan beamed at her. She returned his smile with a cheeky grin of her own, thinking back on their heavy and passionate encounter in the woods.

"Hello, Jonathan," she said, "How is your morning?"

"Infinitely better now that I have seen you," he said, kissing her hand.

"Your charm knows no bounds, Mr. Pierce," she laughed, "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He held her hand a bit longer, keeping her from leaving. "Please, Goldy, join me for a nice breakfast in the tea room."

"Oh, I wish I could, Jonathan. But I have a previous engagement," she said, slipping her hand out of his. She turned to leave, but he was persistent. He grabbed her hand again.

"Who are you meeting?" he asked.

"Red... I...I mean, Madame Primrose," she corrected.

"The inn owner?" Jonathan asked in surprise.

"The very one," she said, beginning to remember that such a state of affairs was one to be proud of. Having breakfast with the owner of a world famous inn was a grand endeavor indeed.

"A fine woman," he said, "I have only spoken with her once. She has been hard to find lately."

"Well, perhaps she has just been very busy," Goldy smiled, "I really must go. She is waiting for me."

"Perhaps you and I could have dinner with her some time. Could you suggest it to her," he asked before Goldy could leave.

"Yes yes, certainly," Goldy said, taking a few steps backwards down the hall, "I will see what she says. Goodbye, Jonathan." She continued her journey to breakfast, having high hopes for more stories as well. Red's door was a pleasant sight. Goldy straightened her dress and knocked.

"Red, it's Goldy," she called happily through the door.

It opened, but Goldy was surprised to see Gretel. She stood in her undergarments, her eyes heavy with sleep. But she still smiled upon seeing her blonde friend. "Good morning, Goldy. Come in."

"Goodness, Gretel," she said while entering, "You look like death warmed over."

"Mildly speaking," Red chimed in. The innkeeper was adjusting her red cape in the mirror. She had clearly washed not more than an hour ago, her wet hair still shimmering in the light from the open balcony door.

"You look lovely this morning," Goldy stated, admiring how the infamous cape complimented Red's dress.

"Thank you," she said, putting the hood up over her head, "Breakfast should be up soon. Gretel dear, take a night robe from my closet. We cannot have the waiter seeing you in your underthings."

Goldy was clearly confused by the situation. The bed looked as though someone had just rolled out of it, probably Gretel. And the reason why she was in Red's suite in her undergarments was beyond Goldy's comprehension. But the blonde felt brave enough to ask.

"Gretel, what are you doing in your skivvies," she asked.

"It is a long story," Gretel stated while rummaging through Red's closet for a suitable robe.

Red grabbed a photo off of the dresser and held it in her hands as she talked. "Gretel came knocking on my door earlier this morning, having something very important to show me. She had not slept at all last night, so I insisted she rest here."

"Well, what was so important," Goldy asked.

Red simply held out the photo to her. Goldy took it and examined the image. "That's Mr. Bellamonte," she said innocently.

The world could have stopped in that moment. A harsh silence befell the three ladies. Red looked to Gretel who had paused, waiting for anything more to be said, her eyes wide with dismay.

"Who did you say that was," Red asked.

"Maxwell Bellamonte," Goldy said. She handed the photo back to Red, suddenly feeling a bit aggrieved from holding it.

"Are you sure," Red asked, looking Goldy directly in the eyes.

"Yes, we met the night Gretel was attacked," Goldy said, "A terribly repugnant man, I must say."

Gretel wrapped herself in a robe and sat on the bed, rubbing her shoulders with her hands to comfort her nerves. Goldy noticed the effect this news had on the other two and looked between them, utterly confused as to what was going on.

"Goldy... this is a photo of Gretel's attacker," Red said slowly, her voice stern and weighted, "He was the dark figure we saw in the woods yesterday."

It was hard to imagine a face grow any paler than Goldy's at that moment. She blinked a few times, her mouth agape. She put a hand to her chest and searched for a place to sit down. Her body practically collapsed on the chaise longue, limp and fatigued by the information. Red poured a glass of water and handed it to her, watching the blonde take a swallow as though it were a much needed swig of alcohol.

"So, what do we do now," Gretel asked after a moment of silence.

"I will inform my security and send for the police again," she said, putting the horrendous photo aside. "For now, we should enjoy breakfast."

"I think I lost my appetite," Goldy stated while patting down her brow with a handkerchief.

Red smiled a little. "We know you better than that, Goldy."


	21. More Than Best Friends

Breakfast was a welcome distraction for the three young women. Red's finest waiter set up their plates and dishes outside on the balcony. The atmosphere of the forest could not be ignored this fine morning. And despite the unsettling revelation the ladies had come to only a few minutes earlier, they set aside their worries to enjoy each other's company. The callous photo had been whisked away to the chief of security, its absence oddly settling the mood among the ladies. Perhaps this is why Red decided to ask more about this Maxwell Bellamonte. For as intimately as she knew her many guests, he seemed to have slipped under her social awareness.

"What was he like, Goldy?" Red asked while buttering her muffin.

"Arrogant, very arrogant," Goldy replied in between bites, "Relentless in his flirting as well. Jonathan had to rescue me by masquerading as my lover."

"His fancies must have turned to me when he realized he could not have you," Gretel joked sarcastically.

Goldy suddenly stopped and looked very upset, as though the comment insinuated the attack was somehow her fault. And strangely enough, she felt guilty over it. But Gretel was quick to back track when she saw how deeply the joke had cut.

"Oh no, dear! Don't think for a moment that you are accountable for any of this," Gretel told her.

"Right. The bastard acted on his own free will," Red stated, gesturing with her butter knife, "He will hang for what he did, mark my words."

Goldy nodded and continued eating her breakfast. Her plate was piled high with a grand assortment of fruits, pastries, and meats. The waiter had poured her a small bowl of porridge, but she immediately pushed it off to the side as though it were poisoned. Her actions had not gone unnoticed.

Gretel eyed the bowl. "Do you not care for porridge anymore, Goldy?" she asked.

"I lost my taste for it," she answered very simply, "...considering its connotation."

"Understandable," Red stated, looking over her wide open balcony. "However, that story is meant for later. I do believe it is Gretel's turn."

The raven haired German suddenly looked very embarrassed. Considering Red's generosity with her last telling, it was only fitting that Gretel continue the trend. However, that did not stop her cheeks from turning light pink.

Red could not help but smile upon seeing Gretel's suggestive reaction. "Don't be shy, dear. Please continue," she insisted.

Gretel bit her lip but pressed herself to continue. "After we realized our trail of breadcrumbs was gone, we spent the rest of the dwindling daylight hours traipsing around blindly in the forest. The longer we walked the more frustrated Hansel became. Just as the sun began to disappear behind the horizon, we found a clearing to rest in for the night. I watched with awe as Hansel made a fire with only two sticks. Noticing my admiration, he vowed to teach me before we left the forest. It was too dark to search for food. However, the luncheon I had stuffed into my dress made for a decent meal. I was embarrassed by how smashed and crumbled the food was, but Hansel was genuinely pleased with the nourishment, commending me for being so clever. I just prayed it did not taste like the moisture of my skin.

The glow of the fire was haunting. I sat by Hansel and watched the flames dance, leaning against his shoulder. We sat in silence for a while. Looking back, I suppose he was still frustrated. He blamed himself for the foolish idea of using breadcrumbs. Stones or twigs would have worked better. But I held no ill will against him for our situation. Our unfortunate circumstance was more likely my fault. If I had not been so stubborn and just chosen a husband, none of this would have happened. Even the night before, I wished for this. I wanted to take Hansel and get lost in the forest. And now my wish had materialized. Hansel never knew, but I blamed myself for everything.

Sitting next to him in front of the fire, I could feel leftover crumbs rubbing against my skin, making my dress very uncomfortable and itchy. I rose to my feet and gazed beyond the protective haze of light. The darkness was very unsettling, but undressing in front of Hansel was out of the question. So I swallowed back my fear and trudged through the thick brush. I only wandered about five meters from the fire, looking to its glow for comfort. Finding a thick tree to hide behind, I threw my dress to the side and struggled to undo my corset. The relief of unlacing those strings was unspeakably liberating. Such a dreadful article of clothing need not be worn in the context of survival. Though I assumed Hansel, in all his resourcefulness, could make something useful of it. So I put it aside, for the moment, along with my undergarments.

I stood there completely naked, brushing off the many food crumbs that clung to my skin. The darkness made me feel vulnerable, my white skin standing out against the black trunk of the tree. Even the chill in the air moved over my body like a pair of hands ravaging my bare frame. However, I must admit such an idea did not completely repulse me.

I sat down against the tree, trying to find some peace. Behind me I could hear Hansel moving around by the fire. It suddenly struck me how delicate our current setting was. A few steps in my direction and he would see me in my glorious state of undress. His eyes would gaze over only what the mirror had seen before. Would he think I was beautiful? I had asked myself that question so many times throughout the years. My feelings for him had developed far beyond anything I could comprehend. And yet, there we were, lost and forgotten amongst the trees, and I still could not face him.

My hand slowly traveled in between my legs. Throughout my recent years, I had often experimented down there, but my efforts never amounted to anything special. But in this moment, something was different. Never had I been so wet, even while engrossed in my most amorous fantasies. The smallest touch sent a wave of pleasure pulsating through my body. I closed my eyes tightly and imagined being in a different place entirely. In my mind, I was safe and warm in a sweet little cottage with plenty of food and desserts. The forest floor was instead a comfortable bed, overflowing with rich satins and silks. And of course Hansel was there lying next to me. His hand touched and caressed my womanhood. His lips placed soft kisses all over my body. I could feel myself getting closer to something grand, an intensity welling up inside me. I had never felt this way before or come so close to an actual climax.

Ridiculously enough, my fantasy enthralled me so entirely that I did not hear the footsteps. My name was whispered to me gently, as delicate as a young bud opening into a blossom. Believing it was my own imagination, I whispered a name back to the mysterious voice.

'Hansel...'

A hand touched my knee. I opened my eyes to find a big surprise.

'Hansel!" I gasped loudly. Apparently he had gone searching for me, only to find me in a rather unorthodox position. I had been so deeply caught in my flight of fancy that I had not noticed him kneel directly in front of me.

I shut my legs tight and covered my breasts with my arms. How embarrassing it was. I tried to scoot away from him, but the tree behind me obstructed my escape.

'Hansel, I... I...'

Only humiliated stutters escaped me in between my great panting. Tears filled my eyes though they never fell to my cheeks. But Hansel simply smiled at me, no words to spoil the moment. He leaned in close until I could feel his breath on me. I turned my face away, too mortified to look him in the eyes. He seemed to pause as if to enjoy how close we were. Suddenly, a kiss was placed upon my cheek, followed by many more trailing down my neck. Shivering in desperation, I leaned my own head against his, cradling his face in my neck and shoulder. His lips were so smooth and gentle. I began to wonder. Had he always wanted this? How long had he felt this way about me? What did this mean about all our years of close friendship?

He maneuvered himself closer until his body pressed up against mine.

'Hansel...,' I began to say. So desperately I wanted to speak to him, to ask him if this was real. But his lips hushed mine. Never had I kissed anyone before. But the simple touch made my entire body grow warm. I felt his hands grasp my wrists. He attempted to remove my arms from my chest, but my body contorted in objection.

'No,' I protested against his lips.

He pulled away just enough to look me in the eyes. His forehead touched mine and he stared for a moment. 'I will be gentle. I promise.'

I do not know why I started to cry. Perhaps I was scared, or maybe overcome by joy. But tears ran down my face as I nodded and let him open my arms. Surprisingly, he did not look down at my naked torso. His eyes never left mine. He kissed me again, this time wrapping his arms around my small frame. I could feel my breasts press up against his chest, and I loved the sensation.

He pulled away only for a moment to remove his shirt. It seemed like a gesture of recompense, allowing me the sight of his bare chest just as I permitted him. He was well toned, the outline of his muscles highlighted by the moon. I had seen his upper torso many times in our younger years, so its sudden appeal confused me. I shyly stretched out a hand to touch it, but it was just beyond the reach of my fingertips. He teased me by letting my hand hang there awkwardly for a moment, but his desire to be touched did not keep him at arm's length for long. He closed the distance between us, and took one of my nipples in his mouth. The sudden action forced a surprised squeal from me. His tongue and lips moved over it ravenously. The sight was one I never thought I would see, his mouth so firmly attached to my breast. But seeing him take me so hungrily made my womanhood burn with the need to be touched. So I let my hand squeeze between my clenched legs to pleasure myself.

Hansel noticed my actions. 'You should have told me,' he whispered, pulling away from my breast.

He put both of his hands on my knees and pushed them apart. I heard him draw in a quick breath when he saw my womanhood. His revealing reaction presented a interesting question that I had wondered before. Was I his first? I sat up and looked him in the eyes.

'Hansel,' I breathed, 'I have never been with a man. Have you ever done this before?'

He looked me right in the eye. 'No,' he whispered while shaking his head slightly, 'I always hoped you would be my first.'

Words could not describe how I felt from hearing that statement. The pure bliss of knowing his feelings made everything fall into place perfectly. Back at home when courted by suitors, I partially rejected them due to the lingering hope I could be with Hansel. It made my chest ache to think I might have lost him for good had I chosen a beau. So I put the thought aside so it would not spoil my joy.

He began undoing his pants. As he did, he asked me one last question. 'Gretel, are you sure you want to do this?'

There were so many answers to that question. But for all my passion and all my hopes, I could only utter one word. 'Yes,' I nodded.

His member was in full view now. And if I remember correctly, my initial thought was how strange it was. To me, it looked like the neck of a freshly plucked chicken, ready to be wrung for dinner. Hansel inched closer to me with it in his hand. We positioned ourselves accordingly until his member was just touching my entrance. I rested my hands on his shoulders and looked down in between us, my heart eagerly racing in anticipation.

'Ready?' he asked.

'Yes, put it in,' I gasped.

I watched him push it in, fighting every urge in my body to scream at the piercing pain. But my rapid breathing and the shuddering of my body gave me away. He looked up at me worriedly.

'Does it hurt, Gretel?' Hansel asked.

'A little,' my voice trilled from the pain, 'But I'm fine.'

I felt my back hit the rough bark of the tree again. Hansel pinned me against it, beginning his slow thrusts. The feeling must have been incredible for him. His thickness filled me as though it would stretch my very walls. As the seconds turned into minutes, I finally started to relax and enjoy the sensation. I ran my hands through his brilliant red hair, telling him to go faster. He obeyed willingly, picking up his pace. The prickly bark dug into my back with each thrust, but I did not mind. All I could think about was him. For so long, he had been my closest friend, almost as close as a brother. But now, here we were as two hopeless lovers lost together in an unending forest. As his member entered me over and over, I began to think back to all those nights we spent together; our bodies so near, unknowing of the hidden desires that simmered beneath our skin.

I could feel something arise in me. I held him so tight, as if I would fall off the face of the earth the moment I released. It grew closer and closer, tensing up my entire body. All I could do was moan for more.

'Gretel...,' he panted, still holding me, 'I love you.'

Suddenly it felt as though a bolt of lightning struck me. My scream echoed throughout the forest, breaking the cold silence of the night air. After my body tensed for a few seconds, I collapsed against the tree. He pulled himself out of me, moving his hand up and down the shaft with great speed. I watched what I assumed was him pleasuring himself, and after a few seconds, he let out a great moan and spent all over the ground.

He looked at me when he was finished, a relaxed smile on his face. He crawled towards me and sat up against the tree as well, placing his hand on mine. For a few minutes, we just breathed. I needed the time to absorb what had just happened and what had been said to me. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

'Hansel,' I said breathlessly.

'Yes, Gretel?'

'I love you, too,' I told him. I leaned over towards him and rested my head on his shoulder. He leaned his head on mine lovingly. After our rest we gathered our clothes and walked over to the fire, still naked and vulnerable. Lying down next to the flames, I pulled my dress over me like a blanket. Hansel lied down behind me, his body conforming to my own. We watched the fire dance a little more before falling asleep. The fear of dying in the woods was not as heavy a burden now. The only man I could ever love slept beside me once more. Only now we did not have anything to hide."

Goldy's chin rested in her hands with her elbows improperly propped up on the table. Her eyes glistened with enamored wonder over the story. Red had leaned back in her chair, giving her signature wolflike smile.

"I trust you liked the story," Gretel stated, letting a small grin appear on her lips.

"I just pray it does not end there," Red stated.

"Oh, there's more," Gretel sighed, glad she had gotten another part of her story out in the open.

Goldy fanned herself. Even though the morning air had a chill, her face still flushed red. "Perhaps one of us should start writing these stories down. I have the strangest feeling I will want to hear them again," she smiled.


	22. Ugly

"Ouch! Be careful with that scrubber, Goldy," Gretel stated sternly.

"Sorry dear, but I simply must scrub this sordid back of yours," Goldy said.

Red sat on a chair watching her two friends with an amused smile. The scene was rather humorous but also very endearing. The bathtub was filled to the brim with hot water and bubbles. Goldy sat on the edge of the tub, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows with a large scrubbing brush in her hand. A rather indignant Gretel sat immersed in the sea of bubbles, letting her hygienically obsessed companion wash her down thoroughly.

"Your hair needs a good brushing. One hundred strokes should do it," Goldy insisted.

"One hundred?" Gretel exclaimed, "How do women of vanity find the time to do anything of substance?"

"You get up very early," Goldy stated, pouring a pitcher of water over Gretel's head.

Red smiled, her eyes peering out from beneath her crimson hood. "Goldy dear, you should pass the time by continuing your story."

"Do you suppose so," she asked, rubbing her soap drenched fingers through Gretel's thick mane.

"It would certainly make this ignominy go by much faster," Gretel said, her arms crossed over her chest.

The other two laughed at her sour attitude. Goldy ran the scrubbing brush over a bar of soap while she thought back to where she had left off. "I suppose it is my turn to speak of my first lusty experience. Sadly, mine was not as enjoyable as both of yours."

"I do not know how long I had been unconscious; a day, maybe two. But I opened my eyes to the sunlight coming in through the window. Had it all been a nightmare? Was I safe and sound in my bed back home? I would have given anything in the world for such a thing. But I noticed that this bed was not my own. I sat up on my hands but immediately regretted it. A sharp pain all over my body caused me to gasp and fall right back into the mattress. My shoulders and arms throbbed madly from my rash action. I gently turned over to see where I was. And to my greatest fear, I was still in the cottage.

'Oh! You're awake,' someone said to me.

My heart jumped, and my face must have turned white as a ghost. I looked at the foot of the bed where the voice had come from. It was the son, the young man about my age. But I still panicked at the sight of him, assured that he would harm me just as his father had. He must have seen how frightened I was, because he rose from his seat and stepped towards me.

'No, wait! Please don't be scared,' he begged, holding out his hands to me.

I tried to escape him, but I lost my balance on the edge of the bed and tumbled to the floor, hitting the side table on the way down. My entire body burned with pain which only made my eyes water over. I whimpered as he came even closer, his silhouette looking like a giant animal ready to tear me apart.

'Shhhh,' he tried to hush me, 'Please! Paw will hear you!'

And as though he were speaking of the devil, we heard a loud roar from downstairs. 'Junior! Is that little trollop awake yet?'

The young man cringed at the voice. He looked over his shoulder and shouted towards the door. 'No, Paw! She's still out cold!'

'Don't you be lying to me, boy,' he bellowed, 'If I come up there and she's awake, I'll give it to both of you real good.'

The poor boy looked as frightened as I was. He knelt down in front of me but kept his distance. 'Please miss, you have to get back in bed and pretend to be asleep,' he whispered desperately to me.

As confused and frightened as I was, I really had no other alternative than to listen to him. I nodded my head, tears beginning to flow over my cheeks. However, getting my legs underneath me was a problem in itself. Pain shot through them when I tried to move. But I had to hurry. Giant thundering footsteps boomed loudly up the stairs, growing closer and closer. The young man looked to the door and back at me anxiously. With one giant swoop, he picked me up in his arms and laid me down in bed. With the sheets over me, I wiped away my tears and shut my eyes tight. Not a moment later, the door swung open with a loud slam as it hit the wall.

'Come on, Paw,' the boy said, 'She's hurt awful bad. Just let her sleep a little while longer.'

'She's slept enough as it is,' he growled.

Though I did my best to appear asleep, my eyes shot open when a hand grabbed my arm and hoisted me upright like meat on a hook. The same grotesque face of the father stared at me, his eyes looking me over carefully. He seemed to enjoy my gaze of pure terror, satisfied in his ability to intimidate young girls.

'Now what are we suppose to call you?'

I was not sure if he was asking himself the question or if it was aimed at me, but I gave an answer anyways. 'My... my name is... Goldy Locks.'

'Goldilocks, eh?" His eyes moved to my hair. It must have been an awful mess after all that had happened. 'You're an ugly little thing, aren't you? Course, no one would look good after what I done to you,' he chuckled evilly.

That was the first time anyone had ever called me ugly. And as strange as it may sound, those words hurt almost as much as the pain flaring through my arms and legs. But I had little time to dwell on it. He dragged me over to his bed and threw me on it as if he were tossing a coat over a chair. The bed's initial hardness came to mind as my body bounced on the mattress. All the pain from the first beating pulsated through me in one hot flash of agony. I could not help but scream from this, which only made the father mock my torment with a bellowing laugh.

'So, you say you are lost,' he chortled. 'Poor little trollop, lost in the woods with no way to get back home,' he jeered at me. 'Then I suppose you'll be with us for a long time.'

The son came up behind his father. 'Paw, she's been through a lot. Can't we just leave her be for a while?'

'Shut up, Junior. I'll decide what to do with her,' he roared at his son, 'Now get on downstairs and chop firewood for your momma's stove.'

'But, Paw... I...'

'Get going!'

Watching the son reluctantly leave the room was like watching my fate be sealed. He shut the door behind him, powerless to stop his father. And as soon as his footsteps disappeared down the stairs, my attacker returned his attention to me.

'I would not mind getting a look at what you got under them ruffles,' he said, clearly staring at the petticoats beneath my dress.

Truthfully, I had not considered this type of danger until he acknowledged it. So when his motivation turned to a sexual nature, my chest began to ache. It was hard to imagine escaping him, as big as he was. But losing my virginity to such a horrible man made me want to fall over and cry. I pulled my legs up under me protectively, leaning farther and farther away from him. He approached me, his hands up like the claws of a bear.

'The missus don't like to have fun anymore, so I've been itching for a roll in the hay, so to speak,' he said.

He was almost entirely on top of me. In a fit of panicked desperation, I placed my foot on his chest and pushed as hard as I could to ward him off. But I might as well have been kicking a wall. He grabbed my ankle, his large hand wrapping around it as my hand would wrap around a broomstick. With one swift yank, I found myself completely engulfed in his shadow. His eyes were ravenous, like a hungry animal. He placed one giant hand on my chest, pushing me down into the comforter and sheets. The force was so great, I felt my breath leave me entirely. And as much as I wanted to, I could not struggle with such a great weight on me. He grabbed my petticoats in his other hand and jerked them off entirely, throwing them to the floor. Soon, my stockings and underpants followed. Feeling a coolness around my nether regions from the sudden exposure, I managed to summon a scream. But that probably only wetted his appetite. He pulled the top of my dress down around my waist, revealing my entire upper torso to him. He stared at my breasts, his insane lust only fueled by the sight of them. He grabbed one in his paw of a hand and squeezed like he was turning a doorknob. It felt like a vise crushing my flesh. My noises of objection grew louder, but no one came to my rescue. I could not imagine who might aid me. Perhaps the son would rush up the stairs and pull his father off of me. Or maybe even the mother would catch her husband defiling their wedded bed, forcing him to stop. But my cries went unanswered, as loud as they were.

He lifted my dress up until my entire gown was crumbled around my waist. He chuckled at the sight of me and forced my legs open by standing in between them. It was hard to see what was going on, so naturally I was surprised by the sudden feeling of a hand rubbing me down there. I had handled myself before in the past couple of years, shortly after the act of sex was explained to me by my mother. But the grande intrusion of someone else's fingers touching and caressing me filled me with a strange mixture of anger and great sadness. My confusion made my eyes glass over with tears and I began to bawl loudly instead of scream. But he never relented.

His fingers slipped into me and I squealed out in protest. I could feel his fingernails raking against my walls. If I had been wetter, it might have been more pleasant. But seeing how I was not exactly aroused by this indecency, naturally I was a bit on the dry side. He took notice of this and pulled his hand out of me. He spit like an old crank on his fingers and forced them back inside of me. The feeling was disgusting, only making the growing pain of nausea in my stomach that much worse. He held me down with one hand and worked on his belt with the other. I had just about lost most of my strength at this point, finding it harder and harder to fight back. Suddenly, he grabbed my hips with both hands and flipped me onto my stomach. My knees were underneath me while my face fell against the thick bed comforter. I panted heavily, tears flowing from my eyes and wetting the bed sheets.

That is when it happened. Something filled my womanhood beyond what it could hold. The pain was far worse than the beating I had endured. He never once stopped to allow me respite. He just thrust in and out of me, enjoying my pained whimpers. I grasped the bed sheets in my hands desperately. Each thrust felt as though it were killing me in increments.

As I clung to the bed, my energy nearly gone, I began to think of home. How far had I fallen? Mother and father would certainly think of me as a disgrace. I thought about all the things I had taken for granted; a warm bed, generous amounts of good food, and someone to love and protect me. I even thought back to that dress for the North Star Ball, the one I had ripped to shreds in a spoiled tantrum. It was not that bad of a gown. In fact, it was remarkably beautiful. And it took me till just then to realize it.

This may sound horrible, but as I slipped into my state of delirious exhaustion, I actually began to enjoy the moment. My body dulled the pain and instead focused on the pleasure. A pink flush formed over my skin. Something in me was building up quickly, like a volcano about to erupt. He quickened his pace, most likely getting closer to his own climax. I squealed with every thrust, his movement pushing my body back and forth. And before long, a great explosion happened in me, causing me to scream like I never had before. He pushed into me just a few more times before pulling out and covering my entire stern with a sticky liquid.

I fell to the side, exhausted and spent. My body was drenched in sweat, soaking the comforter with my moisture. I heard the father pull up his pants and adjust his belt. He grumbled to himself, walking to the door. I was surprised he had nothing more to say to me. But he just opened the door and left. Apparently the son was just beyond the room for I heard the father speak to him.

'I'm done with her. Do what you want with the little harlot,' he growled.

I tried my hardest to keep my eyes open. The son walked in, stunned to see me as I was. He approached the bed, unsure of what to do. He just stared for a moment or two, his eyes filled with sympathy and indecision. I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling very humiliated. A sadness enveloped me as painful as the throbbing between my legs. I felt a blanket cover me and a pair of hands picking my limp body up. I did not want to be touched, but I had no energy to object. The son laid me back down in his own bed. The last thing I remember was feeling the sheets being pulled over my body. If I had to be thankful for one thing, it was this strange young man. His heart was certainly big enough to make up for his father's lack of humanity."

The silence in the washroom was cold and piercing. Not even the water in the tub made sounds as Gretel sat amongst the disappearing bubbles. Red looked rather angry. In fact, it was very unsettling to hold a gaze with the innkeeper. Gretel could only stare, her brow furrowed in thought. Goldy grew impatient with the silence.

"Someone please say something," her mousy voice almost whispered, "less I feel like a fool."

"How on earth can you act the way you do with such a heavy burden upon your shoulders," Gretel blurted out.

Red threw an admonishing glare at her. "That is not the most appropriate question at this moment, Gretel."

"No no, I do not mind," Goldy said, though reliving the past certainly did bother her. "For so long I just never thought about it. Years have gone by since it last crossed my mind. But it finally came back to me the night you were attacked," she said looking to Gretel. "Hearing of your rape made me think of my own."

"I commend your bravery," Red stated, still looking rather perturbed, "It takes courage to face one's unsavory past. I will be the first to testify for that argument."

"I would not doubt it," Goldy smiled, comforted by the support of her friends, "Though I would be so lucky to have your heroism."

Red seemed to find her assumption amusing. "My dear, I may be many things, but a hero I am not."


	23. Strapped to the Thigh

"I do not know why I am putting up with this," Gretel stated. She clenched her teeth and drew a sharp breath from the sudden pain of her hair being pulled. A fine tooth comb passed through the thick locks but immediately caught against a knot. Goldy grabbed the stubborn strands and worked the tangle out ferociously. Gretel's mane was proving more of a challenge than previously anticipated.

"Not to be snide, but I believe we passed the one hundred stroke estimate long ago," Red smiled while running a brush through the other half of Gretel's hair.

"When was the last time you brushed this mess," Goldy asked, still trying to get the knots out on her side.

"That depends on what day it is today," Gretel replied.

"Funny," Red stated, brushing out the ends. "Though I must admit we are making progress. See for yourself." She lifted a handful of hair up in the mirror for Gretel to see. There was certainly a noticeable difference. As coarse and wavy as it was before, the intense brushing softened its texture and gave it shine. Even though there was some attempt to hide it, a small smile crept across Gretel's lips. She arched her shoulders up as though she were embarrassed by it. The fickle winds of fashion and vanity never peeked her interest, but even she had to admit there was an inherent joy to be found in playing the part of the beauty.

Goldy ruthlessly clawed at another tangle with the comb. "Red, perhaps this would be a good moment to tell your story. It will pass the time, and I am very excited to hear what happens next," she said. Gretel seemed to second the statement with a smile and nod.

"If you insist," Red smiled while she worked.

"After my first encounter with Daniel, I have to admit I became thoroughly consumed by the new activity. Every night I forced myself to climax repeatedly until I collapsed against the sheets in sheer exhaustion. Fantasies of interludes in the woods filled my foolish, young head. Never had I felt so light and flighty, like walking in a sea of feathers.

My trips to grandma's house became more frequent than usual. Mother questioned me about it once, but I just told her grandma like my company and drank less when I was around. That was a lie of course. Truthfully, I rarely had the old widow's welfare in mind on my recurrent trips. My own selfish desires needed to be fulfilled. In my head, I justified it by reminding myself of how businesslike our arrangement was; quid pro quo and such. I gave Daniel what he wanted, and he provided me an escort. However, after a while the lines began to blur. Our relationship was no longer about inquiring a chaperone. We wanted each other. Maybe not emotionally, but there was something appeasing about our rendezvouses, as if a thirst in both of us was being quenched when we reached our climaxes.

Walking along the trail, I usually found him at his chopping block. He always had his shirt off, the sweat on his chest glistening in the sunshine. He even once surprised me by stripping down completely, his thick member dangling between his legs as he chopped the wood. I had to laugh when I saw him. He smiled seductively and leaned back, showing it off to me. My clothes could not come off fast enough that day. It all seemed in good spirits. We were happy to see each other and always found new places to go. I became intimately familiar with the woods thanks to Daniel. He even introduced me to the Scarlet River's magical powers, promptly dragging me into the current and entering me as the water turned red. And after we had our fun, he would walk me along the trail as we would talk.

I learned so much about him. His family was absolutely monstrous, beyond any comprehendible meaning of the word. The father was a secret drunk and his mother was physically abusive. The rascal of a boy that pulled on my cape as I walked by was nothing more than the victim of a horrible family life. I felt bad for having thought so poorly of him, especially considering he treated me with such respect when we were together. It was a pleasant surprise. His lusty reputation was hard to look past. The village girls often giggled about who had been with him, expounding upon his talents in bed. And now he had me, which at times made my stomach feel like a sinking pit. I must have been just another girl to him, another notch in his pole. And yet, something in me hoped I was so much more than that.

Weeks went by. I lost count how many times we had met. But slowly, Daniel's demeanor began to change. He acted as though he carried a great weight on his shoulders and refused to ask for help. I could not get him to talk about it. It was hard even to make him smile. He seemed tired and grew more distant with each passing. I would approach him at his chopping block and he no longer smiled when he saw me. He would gaze upon me with a pained stare of sadness and longing, as though he carried bad news but could not bring himself to tell me. I assumed his troubles were linked to his family. Feeling sorry for him, I decided to do something nice one day.

I walked along the trail, my basket at my side as usual. I heard his swinging axe in the distance, which motivated me to walk faster. He looked up from his chopping when he heard my footsteps. He seemed better today, which made me smile slightly.

'Hello, Daniel,' I said, walking up to him.

'Hey, Red,' he replied, kissing me lightly on the lips.

'I brought something for you.' I set my basket down and opened it. Reaching in, I pulled out a small pie, enough for two to share. He looked at it, genuinely surprised by the gesture. The side of his mouth turned up in a weak smile.

'Wow, Red. You did that for me?'

I nodded happily. 'Blackberry,' I told him. He had once confided in me his fondness for them when we found a blackberry bush in the forest.

He let out a sigh, as if in relief. 'Thank you, Red. This... this really means a lot,' he said softly. He leaned in and kissed me. He pulled away for a second but immediately returned to my lips. I could feel his passion growing so I put a hand on his chest to stop him for a moment.

The pie would have to wait for later. I returned to his mouth after putting the pastry aside, holding his face in my hands. He picked me up while we kissed, which caused me to wrap my legs around his waist. My lips parted for a moment and his tongue entered my mouth. He had never kissed me this way before, but I barely minded. In fact, this imaginative kiss felt right, as though we were overdue for it. My tongue pushed against his heatedly. The feeling of exploring his mouth was something new and exciting, igniting the flame between us once more. He lowered me to the ground, not stumbling or struggling with the addition of my weight. My back kissed the ground sweetly, letting my red cape fan out beneath me. He reached up into my dress and pulled my stockings down one at a time. He took my ankle in his hand and kissed it lightly, trailing all the way to my knee. His lips grazed against the legs of my frilly, white drawers. As he pulled them off, cool air brushed up against my womanhood.

I closed my eyes. There was a slight pause in the action, but I waited patiently for his next move. Suddenly, I felt something being wrapped around my upper thigh, something like a leather strap. When Daniel fastened it comfortably around my leg, I sat up slightly to see what he had done. I outstretched my leg and stared at the new addition to my thigh.

'I made this for you,' he said, sitting back and admiring how it looked on me. 'I know how you like to carry a blade. This should make it easier for you.'

It was a leather knife holder, though I had never conceived the idea of putting one around my thigh. My head tilted to the side a bit looking at the strange new invention. Though it was a bit odd, the gift made my heart flutter. I was so preoccupied with looking at it, I almost did not notice Daniel placing more kisses along my other leg. He reached into my womanhood, which sent a convulsing ripple through my body.

'It suits you well,' he said, using his other hand to pull down the top of my dress. He buried his face in my breasts, kissing and licking them with a great fiery passion. There was a sense of desperation in the way he touched me, as though this would be the last time we would be together. Something was not right.

'Daniel,' I gasped, 'Please tell me what's wrong.' My body begged as passionately as my voice.

He did not pull away from my breasts. 'Not now,' he whispered and licked my nipple once again, 'Please, I just need to be with you.' He moved back up to my lips, as if to keep me from asking anything else. His tongue filled my mouth, further silencing any more of my inquiries. Not that I could focus long enough to ask questions, for his tongue completely distracted me. At some point, he managed to get his pants around his knees, for his erection grazed up against my mound idly while we kissed. I moaned against his lips, growing impatient with the teasing touch of his member. My desire for it burned so deeply that I wished it would inadvertently slip in as a result of our movements. He sensed my restlessness and lined himself up accordingly. Holding it between his fingers, he pushed it in slowly. I do not know why, but I squealed as though it were our first time again. His manhood had always seemed so perfect to me, nothing of gargantuan size to tear me asunder but not too small that I scarcely felt anything. And in that moment I knew I could wish for no other to enter me. He pushed with expert rhythm, my breasts jouncing back and forth with each thrust. His hands rested on either side of me, his arms fully erect and holding his weight. He stared down at me. His voice got caught in his throat at the peak of each lunge, as though he were going through great physical exertion and yet still trying to moan.

I do not recall our sessions ever taking that long before, but that somehow made it all the more enjoyable. I could feel my peak getting closer and closer, but it reached a plateau and refused to move. Sweat dripped down the sides of my face and my whole body was flushed red. My head felt very light from the exuberant deep breathing of my chest. Never had I felt so tired before. It grew increasingly hard to keep my eyes open. If I could just reach my climax, I told myself. Passing out seemed to be the only thing left to do. But just as my vision began to tunnel, I caught a glimpse of something. I saw the knife holder around my thigh. The gift suddenly took on a new meaning. I pictured Daniel sitting at a work bench, crafting the leather strap and buckle in his hands and his satisfied smile when he completed it. Perhaps he did not truly love me, but he cared just enough. No village lily ever cooed over a gift he made for them. I suppose that is when I convinced myself that my private wish had been granted, that I was more than just another girl to him. And for that reason, I reached my most devastatingly brilliant climax ever. I screamed as though I wished to wake the dead. My entire body heaved upwards, forcing Daniel to stop and grab me as I lurched towards him. We fell hard against the forest floor, though I do not remember feeling any pain. My peak continued to course through my veins and stiffen my body like a board. It must have lasted an honest thirty seconds. And after I finally relaxed, my eyes closed upon looking into Daniel's hazel eyes.

I must have passed out. When my eyes opened, the sky and the trees greeted me. Daniel's shirt was over me, his earthy smell filling my senses. I sat up, holding the material to my chest. Remembering that I had passed out, I hoped I was not out for too long, less I create an inconvenience for Daniel. He sat a few steps away, his bare back turned to me. His spine pointed out beneath his skin and I secretly wanted to run my tongue along its groves, but I silenced my sinful thoughts. I noticed my basket sat next to him, the blackberry pie placed atop it. How hungry he must have been or possibly just very eager to taste it. Either way, his enthusiasm made me smile. More so, his politeness to wait for me caused a rapid pace in my chest. I crawled up to him, being as quiet as I could. But the rustling of leaves beneath my knees and hands gave me away easily. I embraced him from behind, my arms around his chest while my head rested on his bare back. I loved the sensation of my breasts pressing up against his skin, and I placed sweet kisses all over his shoulder.

He sighed. 'Glad to see you up, Red,' he said, 'It was getting hard to ignore this pie.'

'I assumed you wished to partake,' I said, relinquishing my hold on him reluctantly. I sat in front of him, my dress still crinkled around my waist. He held the pie between us and we both hungrily indulged ourselves, getting lost in the sweet tart of the dark berries. He complimented my cooking by practically inhaling his share as well as most of mine. He needed it, I supposed. His awful mother probably never baked pies as wonderful as mine nor allowed him to voraciously consume one as I did. When the pie plate was practically licked clean, we sat together and watched the birds fly about in the trees. We did not say much, a terrible sense of pain still clouding the air around us.

'Daniel,' I said, 'Now will you tell me what is wrong?'

He looked at me as though he were a young boy lost in the woods. He exhaled through his nose loudly. 'Red, there's something I have to tell you,' he said resistantly.

I pictured every horrible confession that could possibly pass over his lips. My heart was close to jumping right out of my chest. I prayed this was not his goodbye.

'Father wants me to work in the shop. He says I spend too much time in the woods. I cannot come to the forest everyday anymore. You will have to go alone,' he told me.

I felt as though I were glass and someone had thrown a rock at me, cracking my delicate surface. But I refused to shatter. Tears welled up in my eyes but I would not let them fall. I just sighed heavily and stared at the ground.

'So that's it,' I said, 'That's the end of us.'

'I sincerely hope not,' he said, putting a hand on mine. 'But you must promise me something, Red.' His hands now took both of mine, forcing me to turn and look at him. His eyes narrowed with the importance of what he was about to say.

'Do not talk to strangers on the trail, no matter how nice they seem.'

I nodded at the simple request.

'And if you find yourself in trouble, run away as fast as you possibly can. If you cannot run, do not hesitate to use what I have given you,' he stated firmly.

We both looked down at the knife holder still attached to my thigh. He reached to his belt and drew his own blade. With great care, he place the knife in the leather sheath strapped to my leg.

'Do you promise?' he asked.

'Yes, of course,' I stated, desperately trying to set his mind at ease.

He forced a smile, though he still seemed very sad. He helped me to my feet and even assisted me with my clothing, straightening my dress and such. As he did, I began to think of all the things I would miss and let a few tears fall from my eyes, though I never let him see. We walked along the trail, not saying much. The maelstrom of emotions hanging above our heads separated us in our final hour together. I wanted to say so much to him but refused to for fear of making matters worse or looking like a fool. He must have felt the same way. But we would hopefully meet again on a rare day in the woods. And when that day came, there would be nothing in this world to keep me from him."

Goldy met eyes with Red via the mirror in front of them. "How very sad," she noted. "I do hope you met up with your woodsman again. It would be such a sad story if you did not."

"Red, is your current knife sheath the one Daniel gave you?" Gretel asked, having long since ignored the fuss over her hair.

"Well, most of it. The one I carry today has two sheaths, one of which is Daniel's," she explained while lifting her dress to show off her peculiar weaponry. She gestured to the various parts of the leather as she talked. "The old strap wore down until it broke, though this_ is_ the same buckle."

Both ladies found great fascination with it and leaned in closer to see. "Red, your story continues to astound me," Gretel stated.

"Oh, tish tosh. Mine is no more riveting than either of yours," Red said, letting her dress fall back into place. She suddenly noticed Goldy's handiwork on Gretel's hair.

"My dear Gretel, we just might be able to pass you off as a lady," she joked.

Gretel looked into the mirror and was visibly stunned by the new state of her hair. Her once messy and tangled locks had been crafted into a marvelous updo of the highest fashion. She merely lacked a ball gown and jewelry to be called a true belle of the eve.

"How much you remind me of the North Star Ball," Goldy sighed.

Red seemed to have gained an idea from the small observation. "The North Star Ball, you say? Goldy dear, you _must_ tell me more of it," she insisted, "Perhaps we could have one of our own right here in my inn."

"You could do that?" Goldy was clearly surprised by the suggestion. "No need to waste expenses on my behalf," she stated.

"Not at all," Red hushed her, "Parties serve more than one use to an innkeeper. I consider it business as usual. Having fun with these professional expenses is beside the point," she smiled mischievously.

"Well," Goldy thought for a moment, "Mr. Pierce has been asking to meet with you. I suppose it would be a grand place to socialize."

"If it pleases the court, I will stay in my room should this _ball_ idea of yours' transpire," Gretel folded her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"Sorry dear, but your sentence has already been chosen," Red joked, "But do not worry. You can bring your camera."


	24. The Lieutenant

Red paused to look around the ballroom. It was a brief repose from the endless string of orders and commands. Her supervision soon would no longer be needed. Only menial, mindless tasks needed to be done in preparation for the ball. An employee walked in front of her holding a flower arrangement. He was followed by others, all holding identical bouquets. The flowers were meant for the tables, their various shades of blue complimenting the dark sapphire tone of the window curtains. Though it would be hard to fully appreciate the scene until the panes were darkened by the night sky. Then it could truly be called a North Star Ball. But for now, the sun shone brightly into the large chamber, providing a warm glow for the busy employees to work by. Red's order for the ball had been an abrupt and surprising one, though her staff had pulled together much larger events in half the time. Her word was law in these woods, and no one wanted to disappoint her simply out of respect.

An employee cleared his throat to attract Red's attention. She turned. Her chef stood before her holding a piece of tattered paper in his hand.

"Madame Primrose," he said, "Is this the recipe you asked about?"

Red leaned in and read the name aloud. "Blackberry pie," she read, "Yes, this is my mother's recipe."

"It has been a long time since you asked me to make it. Are you sure you wish to serve it at the ball?"

"Yes, of course. There is no better pie. I know you can handle it, Nathaniel," she said, turning from him to signify it was her last word. He bowed slightly and left to attend his kitchen.

There was a peculiar joy in watching these extravagant parties come together; a sense of power and control. Though she considered herself a reasonable hostess financially, excessiveness did not seem to bother her for this event. Not only were her own personal interests heavily invested into this soiree, she sought to impress her two most important guests.

"Oh my! Red, you are a miracle worker!"

The innkeeper smiled at the familiar voice. Goldy looked around the ballroom as though she were dancing amongst the stars themselves, twirling about excitedly in awe of her surroundings. Gretel was not far behind. She glanced around as well, though not nearly as enthusiastically. Such a place was foreign to her, seen only in magazines and brochures. Though to be fair, she had always been curious about attending one. The Evergreen Inn was a fitting place to take part in one's first ball.

"It's just how I remember the North Star Ball," Goldy cooed, "Remarkable for merely two days work!"

"Two and a half days. Your vivid description was most helpful," Red noted, "If all goes well, I might make this an Evergreen Inn tradition."

"I would visit your inn every year to attend it," Goldy sighed, "With each passing, it would grow harder and harder for me to leave."

Gretel smiled as though she agreed. Even with the unfortunate events that had occurred, she still found great happiness and inspiration on the inn grounds and the surrounding forest. Her photographic work since arriving was incomparable to anything she had done before. So an opportunity for photos, like a grand ball, could not be overlooked.

"Gretel, dear," Goldy said, her elation still evident, "I simply must know what dress you are wearing!"

The question invaded Gretel's thoughts. She unmindfully opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

"Do you not have a single suitable dress?" Goldy seemed very worried.

Red interrupted. "Oh, don't fret over it, ladies. We will venture up to Gretel's room later and put something together." She seemed very confident in her assertion. But her signature smile disappeared when her eyes suddenly gazed over Goldy's shoulder.

A familiar lot of high collar, navy blue coats entered the ballroom; six of them to be precise. A frazzled employee followed behind them, clearly upset at what was assumed to be an unforeseen and invasive arrival. Goldy and Gretel instinctually retreated behind Red as the men drew closer. The innkeeper stood as formidable as a jagged rock against the pounding waves of the sea. By her judgement, their navy blue top hats and gold trimmed high collars were ridiculous and a joke to the very idea of law enforcement. The obvious leader of the group stepped up to Red, looking down at her from his overbearing height. She stood up tall, undaunted by the rather humorous size difference.

The employee ran to Red's side. "Madame Primrose, I'm sorry! I tried to stop them, but they insisted on seeing you immediately," her voice stammered.

Red ignored the employee's explanation. Her eyes never left those of the giant in front of her. "So good of you to come, Lieutenant Bluff," she said. Her impish smirk conflicted with her glaring eyes. "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost."

The police lieutenant wrinkled his nose at her snideness, his thick, black mustache curving upwards. "You are fortunate I came at all, Madame Primrose," he stated in a pompous head voice.

"Yes, we all know your merit as a police officer," she taunted him.

He visibly fumed over the comment. It pained him to follow protocol. "You will point me to the lady in question."

Red squinted at his tone of aloofness. She reached back behind her, practically without looking, and snatched Gretel's arm. She yanked the young German forward and pushed her towards Bluff. "Here's your clue. It's not as though she were the victim of a crime," Red snapped at him. "If it peaks your interest, her name is Gretel Eberly."

His gaze made Gretel feel as though she were shrinking, growing smaller and smaller until she went out like a candle. Her discomfort was made no easier by the five other pairs of eyes coldly analyzing her. With the sinful stories of her companions still fresh in her head, she could not help but wonder if any of them were undressing her in their minds. This made her feel very vulnerable, as though she were back in the darkness of the woods, undressed and raw.

Bluff raised an eyebrow. "This woman shows no physical indications of an attack."

"That's because _this woman_ was assaulted six days ago," Red stated angrily, stepping up behind Gretel and holding her by the arms, "... approximately three days before you _should_ have been here."

The two dauntless forces stared at each other heatedly with poor Gretel caught in the middle. However, Red was glad to break the silence. "Though if you look close enough, you can see remnants of a black eye."

She almost regretted saying so, for the giant lieutenant shamelessly forced his face inches away from Gretel's. Even Red could smell how horrible his breath was and had to admit his piercing stare was very unsettling. Gretel leaned away from him, but was limited by Red's grip on her upper arms.

Bluff blew air out of his nose into her face. "Any idea as to who this man was?" He stood up straight with his arms behind his back.

Goldy stepped in suddenly. "Maxwell Bellamonte," she asserted, though she dared not stand any closer than needed.

Bluff looked at her as he would a rotten child that had overstep its boundaries. "And who are you, young lady?"

"She is Goldy Locks, a valued guest, a close friend, and she happens to be the person who identified the attacker," Red stated, clearly becoming very aggravated by the lieutenant's dismissive and somewhat condescending attitude.

Goldy found it rather improper of Red to answer for her, though she was glad to be rid of the lieutenant's callous gaze. Bluff instead focused on Red. It seemed nothing had changed since their last meeting. She was still as stubborn and unladylike as ever. Such a woman should run nothing more than a meager tavern or a bakery, Bluff concluded. This one needed nothing more than to be put in her place.

"We will arrange interviews with each of you, probably tomorrow morning," he stated, "Are there any other persons of value to this investigation? Maybe a man?"

The loaded question set off a fire in Red. She resembled a snarling wolf ready for a fight. "The only man involved is cavorting about in my woods like a wild animal! I expect him to be found and removed promptly by your men," she spat, "And without any senseless damage done to my inn."

Bluff was not use to being ordered around by a woman. "I offer you fair warning, Madame Primrose," he stated, his voice reflecting the bellowing of a strong wind. "My men and I will do our job, but the moment you interfere or insult me again, we will leave your tasteless inn in the dust and never come back!" He stepped up very close to her, his chest almost touching hers; not that his display of dominance fazed the innkeeper in the slightest.

"Do we have an understanding?" Bluff growled.

Red furrowed her brow. "We do if your men agree not to disrupt tonight's gala, take advantage of my hospitality, or badger my guests. You may question, but you may not harass."

"Very well," he said, still angered by her mettle, "Our investigation begins now."

"Myrtle," Red addressed the female employee, "... take Lieutenant Bluff and his men to the front desk so that we may provide them rooms for their lengthy investigation."

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded to her innkeeper. The men followed her, some visibly excited to know they were to stay in the famous Evergreen Inn for free and gratis. Only Bluff lingered behind, staring at Red and her companions cruelly. He puffed through his nose one last time and finally turned to leave. There was a smoldering beneath the surface of Red's composure. Judging by what had taken place, she and Bluff had history, and not very pleasant history at that.

Goldy also observed his departure with intense concentration. "If that is our ally, I think I prefer our enemy," she sighed.

"You read my mind," Gretel agreed. "Red, I trust this is not your first encounter with that man."

"We met not long after I opened the inn," Red explained. "I called for his assistance in finding a pair of missing guests. By the time he arrived, he was so cross over the prolonged journey through the woods that he had not a single nice thing to say to me. His men disrupted my inn and ran up a large bill at the barroom. I never saw a cent. It was my security guards that ended up finding the lost guests. When I confronted Bluff about the deplorable behavior and ineffectiveness of his men, he insisted I was overreacting and should be thankful they even came at all. Such was the case for the rest of his visits. Soon I just stopped calling for him and learned to make do with my own security."

"I have yet to see you act so irritably," Gretel said, rubbing the spot on her arm where Red had grabbed her.

"My apologies for flinging you around so roughly," Red said, "But with him, you have to make a very vivid point or he will walk all over you."

"Has anyone ever told you you handle yourself like a man at times?" Goldy asked.

"Once or twice, though by now I consider it a compliment," Red slightly smiled. Her chest heaved once in a heavy sigh as though to expel her nerves. "Boris, Nelly," she suddenly called to two employees arranging tableware, "I am leaving you in charge. I expect everything to be finished by five o'clock."

She began walking out of the large ballroom, her head clearly drifting off to distant places. Being at a loss for what to do, the other two followed her, not even sure if their presence was wanted. But Red sensed them behind her.

"Ladies, shall we ready ourselves in my suite?" she asked.

"I still have nothing to wear," Gretel reminded her. She had been looking forward to receiving help from her friends.

"Yes you do," Red corrected, "Go to your room and you will find a box on your bed. Bring it to my room and we shall dress for the ball together. Be quick ladies. A hostess must always be the first to arrive at her own ball."

* * *

_My apologies for taking so long to put out another chapter. School finals are very unforgiving. Oh, and I think some of you know they are making a Twilight-esque movie about Red Riding Hood. I am deeply upset for I believe it will ruin Red Riding Hood for a long time. _


	25. Corsets

Gretel grabbed the shoulders of the dress and lifted the heavy garment out of the box. Her eyes gazed in awe over it. Such a dress she had never seen before, much less worn. It seemed too elegant even for the ball, though she was not a fitting judge on the topic. But if Red deemed it suitable, she had no qualms about wearing it. She did admire the color. It was the exact shade of lilac as her childhood dress, the one she wore in the woods with Hansel. The bottom trim resembled drawn up curtains, revealing a white lace material underneath. Intricate patterns of silver were stitched up the side and into the bodice. A small purple bow was tied around the waist to complete the gown. In all, it was very beautiful.

"Red, you really have outdone yourself," she stated, "I fear I will not be able to repay you for all the kindness shown to me."

Red threw her undershirt away and found another of much better style. "You owe me nothing," Red said while watching herself dress in the mirror, "Your friendship has much more value than you know. That includes _you_, Goldy," she looked over at the blonde. "Besides, the dress was collecting dust in my seamstress's work closet."

"Who has a dress like this just lying around?" Gretel asked while holding it against her body.

"I give my seamstress time everyday to work on her own personal projects," Red replied, pulling her undershirt over her head. "You have never laid eyes on more beautiful dresses. She has aspirations of opening her own business, a dress shop most likely. I believe she will one day."

"A female business owner," Goldy smiled, "It seems to be the trend nowadays." She gave a snide grin to the innkeeper. "Let us hope she learned something under your leadership. She certainly will need it."

Red nodded. "You are very correct. She will have to work twice as hard to receive half as much. Lord knows the world is not kind to the fairer sex."

Red grew visibly somber over her own observation. Gretel sensed the sudden tension in the conversation, so she changed the subject. "Are you sure the dress will fit me?" she asked Red while holding up the gown in question.

"Certainly. My seamstress recorded your measurements when she repaired your last dress," Red stated, breaking away from her grave thoughts.

"But I rarely wear a corset for that dress. You cannot expect this gown to fit properly when I where a corset."

"Gretel, my dear, I would think you of all people would be against the idea of wearing a corset," Red stated while pulling her drawers up.

Goldy gasped lightly. "A ball gown with no corset? Red, such a thing is positively scandalous! She will be the gossip of the ball the moment a man puts a hand on her waist," Goldy stated.

"Who says a man will be touching my waist," Gretel snapped indignantly as she undressed.

"Ladies, let us not get excited," Red intervened, "If Gretel is to be the gossip of the ball, I shan't let her have all the attention. I shall go without a corset as well."

"Really, Red! I understand your fancies of revolution," Goldy stated, "... but this is a public ball. This is the reason corsets were invented."

"Stuff and nonsense," Red huffed, "The corset is nothing more than a medieval device of torture used to carve women into unreasonable shapes for the pure enjoyment and lust of men."

The blunt definition left Goldy's head spinning. "But Red, I...," she struggled to argue.

"This seems rather silly to me," Gretel said in a reserved tone. "Frankly, Red, you seem more eager to be rid of the thing than I."

Red pulled her hoop skirt and petticoats up around her waist. "Let me put it this way," she said while looking in the mirror. "I have seen much through the years and survived misery that would bring most to their knees. Now that I am free, why should I be forced into further agony with something as absurd as conformity and a rigid piece of clothing?"

The other two could say nothing. Red looked at her reflection as though she were grieved by it.

"I suppose it was the arrival of a charming blonde and an unorthodox German that finally made me realize this," she said rather sadly, ashamed of not recognizing it earlier.

A solemn silence fell over the women. Gretel stepped into the mirror image, sweetly putting her arms around Red and staring at their reflection thoughtfully. "I find it a daft notion to think a corset could hinder you, Red," she stated with a content smile.

Goldy stepped into frame as well, embracing her friend. "A bear trap could not stop you, my dear," she joked.

Red felt her cheeks grow warm at the compliments. "I suspect this is about more than just corsets," she smiled embarrassedly. "Forgive my sudden gloom. This is a time of celebration. I need not dampen the mood with my personal social grievances."

Gretel continued to cling to her companions. However, they had become so much more in the short time they had known each other. Together, they were confidantes and friends, possibly even sisters. Gretel smiled into the reflection, though she had to gasp at the uncanny resemblance to the photo she had taken in the woods. Three beautiful goddesses stood in the mirror. Though now they showed a soft vulnerability, a mutual feeling of uncertainty and aimlessness. Gretel wished for a moment they could return to the woods, to transform back into the bold, indomitable women in her photo. But for now, they would have to carry on.

"Come now," Red stated, "We will talk about this later, when the time is right."

"I would like that," Goldy smiled, giving Red one last affectionate squeeze. "Now if you don't mind, someone needs to help me get this blasted corset off."


	26. North Star Ball

The ballroom seemed to fill up in no time. Even with only two days notice, the inn guests eagerly made room for the party in their schedules. When surrounded by the primal nature of the forest, an ounce of elegance and refinement effectively satisfied the needs of the wealthy. The men, dressed in their suits and tails, gloated to one another, bragging of investments, business ventures, and just money in general. Goldy had to laughed to herself, for they all reminded her of roosters, squawking and puffing up their feathers in displays of dominance. Looking around, she wondered how she had ever put up with them and their silly games of elitism. The women were not much better. When not bragging about their husband's money, they boasted on possessions, parties, and their own sense of style. Goldy sighed though. She knew the hypocrisy of her sudden adversative opinion. Her actions were no different merely days ago. At least she was comfortable in this environment. Heaven knows Gretel must be scared stiff.

Goldy suddenly remembered her companion and searched for a head of raven hair in the crowd. Though knowing Gretel, it would be wiser to search the outskirts of the gaggle. Goldy walked around, occasionally nodding to fellow guests with a smile, but ultimately remaining on task. She could not stand the idea of Gretel hovering off to the side, shy and broken.

A pair of hands suddenly took her waist from behind. She gasped at the sudden touch, but was relieved to hear a familiar voice.

"And how are you this fine evening?" Jonathan Pierce asked while leaning his head against hers in affection.

Goldy spun around and lightly pushed him away. "Really, Jonathan," she spoke softly, "This is hardly the place for informalities." Though she could not help but smile at him.

"My apologies, my dear. But I could not help myself. You are simply too beautiful tonight," he said, taking her hand and placing a kiss on it.

Goldy's heart quickened its pace. "Dear me, Jonathan," she swooned, "I'm liable to blush."

He smiled wickedly. "I do enjoy when you blush," he said, putting his hand around her waist and pulling her closer. But Goldy wriggled away from his hold.

"If you will pardon me, Jonathan," she said while looking around, "I am in search of a friend."

Jonathan took her hand before she could run off. "Let us look together," he said while leading her through the crowd. "So just who are we looking for?"

Goldy removed her hand from his and stepped ahead of him. "Miss Eberly. She's rather short with lovely raven locks. There is a good chance she is with her camera."

Such a thought visibly stunned Jonathan. "Camera? Is she the little German urchin?"

Goldy did not hesitate to turn on her heels and stare him down heatedly. "She is not an urchin," Goldy snapped at him. "She is a fine young woman with more talent in a single strand of hair than you have in your entire body," she pointed her finger in his face.

The strength of the angry retort forced Jonathan to step back. "My dear, I do believe you misinterpreted my intention," he said, "I am sure she is a fine woman, but one must admit she is rather unorthodox."

"Personally, I believe that to be her best trait," Goldy countered. She turned away from him to continue her search. Feeling obligated to meet such a woman, Jonathan continued to follow her though he kept his thoughts to himself. Music poured from the bandstand. An elegant waltz was being played though no one was dancing yet. However, the musicians had attracted the attention of one very special guest. The lower half of a lilac dress stuck out from beneath the black cloth of a camera. Apparently the musicians were interesting enough to be captured in a photo. Goldy sighed in relief and smiled upon finding her friend. Jonathan followed her gaze and blinked in surprise.

"Is that her beneath the cloth?"

"Yes," Goldy replied, "It is good to know she is enjoying herself."

"Is that entirely proper to bring a camera to a formal social event?" Jonathan could not take his eyes off of the rather perplexing sight.

"_Someone_ must document the night. I dare say it will become ritual to bring cameras to parties," Goldy defended her friend.

Gretel emerged from beneath the black cloth, her hair still perfectly in place. Once again, Goldy had proven her abilities in the cosmetics arts, effectively decorating Gretel's formal updo with white rhinestones. She looked positively breath-taking. Even Jonathan took notice of the miraculous transformation.

"Goodness," he almost gasped, "Is that the same young woman who has been traipsing around the inn taking photos?"

"Indeed it is," Goldy looked at her almost with a sense of pride.

"She seems to be drawing much attention to herself," he noted.

Goldy's brow furrowed and she looked around at the nearby guests. People were gawking at Gretel as though she were an animal in a cage. They would occasionally turn and whisper to each other, no doubt gossiping and passing judgement. Goldy's cheeks grew hot with irritation. Such pig-headed, conceited nonsense! Does not one person have the decency to introduce themselves to her? In a huff, she grabbed Jonathan's wrist roughly and pulled him along as she approached Gretel.

"Gretel dear, I would like to introduce you to someone," she said rather loudly, as though she wanted the other guests to hear.

The German turned from her work and smiled at the gentleman Goldy had in a death grip.

"Gretel, this is Jonathan Pierce," she said, nudging him closer. "Jonathan, this is my dear friend Gretel Eberly,"

A moment of realization hit Gretel upon hearing his name. This was the gentleman from the photograph, the very one Goldy had ravaged in the woods. She stared rather wide eyed at him as he bent down and politely placed a kiss on her hand. The relationship suddenly seemed very one sided, considering Gretel had witnessed him in the midst of an act of lust. His naivety to this only made things much more awkward for her.

"How do you do?" he asked.

"Uh... very well, thank you," Gretel almost forgot to answer.

"Gretel dear, it would make me very happy if you would photograph me and Jonathan while we dance," Goldy stated loudly again. She grabbed his wrist and put his hand on her waist.

Her gentleman looked as though someone had turned his head full circle. "Dance? But we..."

"Please, Jonathan dear," Goldy hushed him, "I simply must have a memory of this night."

Gretel adjusted her equipment so it turned towards the dance floor. "Go ahead and dance. Try not to look at the camera," she smiled.

"Thank you, my lovely," Goldy winked just as she pulled Jonathan to the dance floor. The sight was very humorous, the way she flung her gentleman around like a lasso. It was a wonder he was not dizzy. But as soon as Goldy stepped onto the floor, the protocol of dance seemed to overcome her, and she graciously let Jonathan place his hand on her waist and lead her in the waltz. She might as well have been walking on air. Such grace and poise had never been witnessed by the young German photographer. Now she was more than willing to make an artistic piece of this moment. She just needed the right second to click the shutter.

An audience was beginning to gather to observe the rather curious circumstance as though it were a floor show. Only Goldy noticed the attention they were drawing. But it merely fed her enthusiasm and pushed her to perform at her best.

Amidst the crowd, a red cape stood watching the display as well. Her smile was one of great satisfaction. How fitting that her two companions should steal the entire evening. She heard Gretel's camera click. The crowd murmured, clearly impressed and excited to be witnessing the artistic process of photography. Gretel emerged again from the black cloth, but her content smile disappeared when she noticed her expanding audience. She seemed to prove in an instant that one need not be intentionally performing to have stage fright. She slowly reached into her bag and found another exposure plate. As she reset her equipment, she desperately searched for a familiar face in the crowd. Fortunate for her, Red was there. Her smile sent a wave of motivation through the young photographer. Gretel returned to her black cloth, instantly feeling its protection from the gawking crowd. Remembering her task to Goldy, she held the dancing couple in frame again.

A sudden scream erupted from the crowd. The guests began to part to make way for a tall navy blue coat and its many followers. They headed straight for the dancing couple, obviously in search of something. Upon seeing their approach, Jonathan pushed Goldy behind him protectively.

"I must say, gentlemen! This is very undignified and rude," he addressed the tall lieutenant.

"Don't waste my time, you git," Bluff stated meanly, "Where is Madame Primrose?"

Jonathan seemed ready to ask for a duel. But before he could open his mouth in anger, a flurry of red cloth bolted in front of him. Red stood between the two men and glared up at the lieutenant.

"I told you I did not want any disruption of this ball," Red growled at him.

"It does not matter any longer," he snapped at her, "We are leaving. Our job here is completed."

"What do you mean?"

Bluff held out his hand to one of his men. The officer placed a piece of rag in his palm, which he promptly presented to Red. "We found your criminal and chased him to a cliff. I managed to grab his shirt just before he fell over the side. But his clothing ripped in my hand, sending him to his death below."

A large gasp was heard amongst the guests, and they whispered to each other over the news. Gretel stood next to Goldy, instinctually taking her hand for comfort. But Red was not through. She squinted at the rag in her hand and then back up to Bluff.

"How high was the cliff? Where is the body?" she demanded to know.

"It is far too dark to know for sure," he stated, "We could see no way of climbing down the cliff to retrieve the remains. If you want the body, you can collect it in the morning yourself. As for me and my men, we bid you adieu."

The tall lieutenant refused to bow. He merely turned and led his men out the giant double doors. The crowd watched them go, only waiting until they were out of sight to continue their mad gossiping. Red stood with the rag clutched tight in her hand. She looked to the floor determinedly, but her mind was clearly contemplating her next move.

Gretel came up behind her. "Red, what do you think?"

The innkeeper did not answer for a second or two. Her eyes drifted back up to the open terrace doors and scanned into the darkness of the outside.

"I want to see for myself."

* * *

_Reviews make an author feel like she still has an audience. They are good motivation to continue writing as well. I really hate asking for reviews, but I must for the good of my own interest in this story. Thank you kindly! _


	27. Fatten Up

A darkened forest stirred up enough fear and intimidation without the idea of a criminal lurking in the shadows. But something in Red wanted to believe the vulgar rapscallion was gone for good. However, a rare sliver of wisdom from her grandmother played in her head. Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see. Taking this advice to heart, Red stared into the darkness of the forest, her lantern providing just enough light for her to travel. A coiled rope hung over her shoulder, and her knives waited beneath her dress. She felt bad about abandoning her party, and it was very atypical of her to venture into the woods while still wearing her formal dress. But her nerves were far too frayed over the situation, and she wished to waste no time in finding proof of the criminal's demise. She lifted the hood of her cape over her head and stepped onto the path.

"Red! What on earth are you doing?" someone shouted behind her.

The innkeeper looked over her shoulder. Goldy ran up to her urgently with Gretel not far behind carrying a bright lantern of her own. "You cannot be thinking of going into the woods alone!"

"I am far past just thinking about it," Red stated.

"Why not wait till morning?" Gretel asked, "Or send your security out to find the body?"

"No one knows these woods better than I," Red replied, "And time is of the essence. If the brute is merely injured, he will have plenty of time to wonder off before sunrise. And if he truly is dead, there is a chance his body will be taken by animals by morning. I must know for myself before I can travel without worry in these woods."

She began walking again, leaving her friends behind. But their frantic footsteps followed almost immediately.

"Let us at least go with you," Gretel stated.

"Provided you are sure of your nocturnal navigational skills," Goldy said nervously, "I mean, do you even know where you are going?"

"There are only three cliffs in this area that are high enough to kill you," Red said, "I am checking all of them."

"No need to," Gretel suddenly stated. She held her lantern close to the ground and examined something. "Your friend, Lieutenant Bluff, left a clear trail of where he had been."

Red also crouched down and noticed the very distant footprints in the dirt. "Gretel dear, you are astoundingly clever," Red commended her. "You never told us you knew how to track."

"One of the many skills I picked up from Hansel," she stated. "Come. Follow me and we will find which cliff our assailant fell over."

The three ladies followed the trail, their lanterns swinging back and forth with their steps. Goldy found herself clinging to Red's arm, clearly unsettled by the darkness and the many spooky sounds of the night. No words were spoken amongst the women, which only made the silence much more foreboding. An owl gave a loud hoot from a nearby tree, which caused Goldy to almost jump into Red's arms in fright.

"Gretel, why not tell your story," Goldy suggested, "I must admit my anxiety is getting the better of me. Something to break the silence would be helpful."

Gretel looked over her shoulder as she walked. "Are you sure? My story becomes rather sinister at this point. I would not wish to upset you further."

"It cannot be any worse than where we are right now," Goldy insisted. "Please tell it."

Gretel shrugged. "Alright, if you insist."

"There was a definite change between Hansel and I after our first night together as lovers. For the many days we trudged through the forest, things began to fall into place. But with our waning energy, it was hard to make love every night. So we saved it as a celebration for finding food. I tried to never complain of hunger. Hansel had enough on his mind. Though my stomach often betrayed me, for it growled loud enough for both of us to hear. It pained him to know how starved I was. Sometimes we would go for days without food, leaving Hansel frustrated and gloomy. But on the days we did find nourishment, our joy was doubled. Not only could we satisfy our hunger, but we could slake our growing passion for each other as well. Hansel was no better at making love than I was, but we were definitely quick learners. Hansel was especially adventurous. In one of our sessions, my feet literally never touched the ground. The forest was a magical backdrop for having sex. At times I felt it was hypnotizing me, urging me to touch Hansel in ways I had never dreamed of. But in reality, the forest was consuming us, like a great deceiver. Little by little, exhaustion and extreme hunger drew the life from our bodies. However, our troubles only grew when we stumbled onto... _her_ house.

We had gone without food for five days. I was having trouble staying on my feet. Hansel offered to carry me and I rejected at first. But after I collapsed twice, Hansel picked me up off the ground and threw me over his back. I am not sure how long we walked, but Hansel suddenly stopped and gasped.

'Gretel! Gretel! Look," he shouted.

I picked my head up off his shoulder and looked down the path. Much to my surprise, a charming house stood twenty meters into the distance. I drew a long breath, my eyes watering in unspeakable bliss. I hopped down off of Hansel without thinking and took a few clumsy steps towards the house.

'Hold on there, Gretel,' he laughed at my enthusiasm, unable to contain his own joy. 'Here, take my hand.'

As we walked closer, the house became more and more beautiful. It reminded me of the gingerbread houses I saw in the windows of the bakery at Christmas. In fact, I was so delirious with hunger, the house looked good enough to eat. I was tempted to break off a piece and devour it madly. How wondrous it would have been if the entire house was covered in chocolates, toffees, candy canes, and licorice. My mouth watered at the idea of a house made entirely of sweets.

We stepped up to the front door. I fumbled to straighten my dress and fix my hair as Hansel knocked three times. The door slowly creaked open. An aging woman with long silver hair poked her head out the house. Hansel opened his mouth to introduce us, but he was interrupted when the door suddenly flung open.

'Oh my gracious, children! You look terrible! You must be starving to death! Please, come in! Come in,' she said while stepping aside for us to enter.

'Thank you,' Hansel and I said in unison. He took my hand and led me inside. The decor was humble but charming, a fitting place for a widow to reside. I hardly questioned why she lived so far into the woods. Her promises of food were a grand distraction from any queries I had.

'Come into the kitchen, my dears,' she insisted while closing the door behind us, 'I'll make you a feast like nothing you've ever eaten before!'

'You are too kind, ma'am,' Hansel said, 'By the way, my name is Hansel and this is Gretel,' he motioned towards me.

'Pleasure to meet you,' the old woman said as we followed her, 'I am Mrs. Lamia.'

She sat us down at the table in her rather large kitchen. As she bustled about trying to find something for us to nibble on, I noticed a strange odor in the air. It was comparable to the smell of my darkroom chemicals. It was faint, just pungent enough to notice for a moment. But I completely threw the observation away when she placed a freshly baked loaf of pumpernickel bread, a saucer of butter, and a bowl of dried berries and nuts in front of us.

'Don't fill up on the bread, dearies,' she said in a wiry voice, 'Dinner and dessert will be ready soon.'

Hansel and I smiled at each other and hungrily devoured handfuls of berries and nuts as well as the entire loaf of bread. As we ate, I observed Mrs. Lamia as she walked about the kitchen. She was in fine shape for an older woman. In fact, it was hard to even call her _old_, for she stood up as straight as anyone half her age. Aside from her white hair, she retained a polished luster, like antique silver. She was certainly no radiant beauty, but she was far from any meaning of the word ugly.

Before long, she laid a marvelous feast before us of salisbury steak, dumplings, broccoli, sauerkraut, peas and carrots, and dinner rolls. I felt it naughty to partake in the mug of beer she had poured for me, for father never let me have alcohol. But I allowed myself the debauchery in light of the fortuitous circumstance. I never ate so much in my entire life. No matter how much food I swallowed, I was endlessly ready for another bite. Hansel consumed his meal just as voraciously as I. He even raised his mug of beer in a toast to our generous hostess.

No sooner had we cleaned our platters, Lamia set a giant strawberry and chocolate cake on the table. 'What's dinner without dessert,' she stated, cutting a slice for each of us. After giving us each a generous portion, she walked towards the door.

'Finish up your cake, dearies,' she said in a grandmotherly tone, 'I'm going to prepare your beds.'

Hansel dug into his cake as though he were still starving. But after a few bites, he yawned loudly. His weariness made me yawn as well. In fact, a sudden heaviness overcame me without warning. I propped my head up in my hand and poked at my cake wearily. With each blink, it became harder for me to keep my eyes open. This was not my own exhaustion taking hold of me. It felt as though something foreign had reached in and taken my strength. A desperation to fight it came over me. I tried to keep my eyes on Hansel, but he seemed to have just as much trouble staying awake. I could keep my head up no longer.

'Hansel,' I said softly, Han...'

There was blackness for a while. I do not even recall dreaming. But when my eyes finally opened, I was somewhere different. Everything was blurry and the room would not stop spinning. I closed my eyes and tried to find a center of balance. I could feel the floor beneath me and I was sitting against a wall. I moved my left arm, but something heavy weighed down my wrist. My eyes opened again and things were much clearer. The first thing I saw was Hansel, however the position he was in made my heart drop into my stomach. He had been restrained upright against a giant slab of wood, as though he were ensnared in a medieval device of torture. His wrists, ankles, and waist were bound to the timber with thick leather straps, forcing his unconscious body into a standing position.

I rose immediately, not noticing the chains around my wrists and ankles. I took one desperate step towards him but was cruelly stopped by my rattling restraints. I looked at my wrists and felt a sinking feeling of dread come over me.

'Hansel! Hansel,' I called to him in a grieved whisper. 'Hansel, please wake up!' Tears flowed over my cheeks.

The sound of his soft moan offered me some relief, but we were still in immediate danger. I called to him again. This time he opened his eyes slowly. Blinking away the blurriness of his vision, he moaned my name.

'Hansel! I'm right here,' I said to him.

'Where... where are we?' he asked in a daze.

'I don't know,' I sobbed, 'Some type of dungeon.' I looked around the room. Truthfully, it did not resemble any fairy tale definition of a dungeon. The walls were made of stone but still retained a brownish, earthy hue, almost like a cave. A few lanterns hung from the walls, bathing the whole chamber in a ghostly glow. The only thing medieval about the place was a rack of weapons standing against the wall. None of the devices seemed able to execute a person, just merely torture one to insanity. I cried even harder at the sight of it.

Before Hansel had a chance to calm me or even gather his thoughts, the sound of a door creak echoed in the room and a beam of light poured down a nearby flight of stairs. A shadow slowly made its way down the steps, growing larger and larger as it drew closer. 'Hello, children,' a familiar wiry voice said to us just as a darkened figure reached the bottom.

'Mrs. Lamia! What is going on here? Why are you doing this to us?' Hansel demanded to know.

'Its not often I get young ones like you, son,' she said to him as she stood between the two of us, 'Nice and tender.'

I yanked madly at my chains, forcing her attention on me. 'What do you want with us?' I almost screamed at her.

Suddenly, a white flash shot before my eyes. My head whipped to the side violently, and a striking pain enveloped the entire left side of my face. She must have slapped me, though even father never struck me that hard. Hansel screamed his objections to the old spinster, claiming he would kill her if she touched me again. But Lamia ignored his threats. Instead, she grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked my head upwards so I looked her in the eye.

'Don't worry, dear girl,' she hissed, 'I have a use for you. Now as for your gentleman friend, he has another purpose entirely.'

She drew a knife. I winced, assuming it was meant for me. But instead, she approached Hansel. Fearful of her intentions, I rattled my chains loudly and screamed for her to kill me instead. But my pleas were ignored. She held the knife up to Hansel's throat, just letting the metal graze his skin. He tried to show bravery, but it was easy to see he was terrified. His chest was heaving up and down quickly. Droplets of sweat appeared on his brow. But despite all of this, he glared at her. He glared as though his gaze could set fire to her. But his obvious resistance did not ward her off. She drew uncomfortably close to him, almost touching his lips with her own.

'Cooperate, and your friend will live,' I heard her tell him.

Suddenly, his entire body tensed up, and he made a pained gagging noise. While he had been distracted, Lamia's hand wondered down the front of his pants. She clearly had a very tight hold on him, so tight he seemed afraid to move. She began working his shaft in her hand beneath the fabric of his pants. The sight made me physically ill, though it did not stop me from yelling my own protests at her.

'Get away from him!' I screamed, 'Get away you filthy, old witch!'

She looked over her shoulder at me with a wicked smile, as though she were gladly confirming my accusation. She sank down to her knees, pulling his pants down as she did. The reveal of his member suddenly seemed so sickening that I had to look away for a moment. The event happening before my eyes seemed unreal, unheard of. Women are not suppose to do such things. And yet I stood chained to a wall watching a cruel old witch defile my lover. Despite his resistance, Hansel grew hard in her hand. He held his lower lip between his teeth as a means of stifling his moans and gasps. The last thing Lamia needed was encouragement. Unknowingly, I was providing plenty of it by yanking my chains and screaming for her to stop. My torture was her pleasure.

I dare say what I saw next ruined me for life. Being on her knees, her face was so close to his member, and he had become so stiff. She held the shaft in her hand and parted her lips. With no hesitation, she took him in her mouth, pushing herself further down on him until I am sure the tip of his member rubbed up against the back of her throat.

How does one react to such a thing? The only response I had was a short scream. And Hansel, even with all his strength, could stifle himself no longer. He gave a great gasp in reaction to the new sensation or possibly in manifest shock. But Lamia took it as incentive to do more. She began bobbing her head, her lips moving up and down on his member fervently. As disgusting as the sight was to me, I could not look away out of some sinister curiosity. It looked as though she were consuming him, as if the huge meal she fed us before was to fatten him up.

Hansel was clearly upset. I suppose he was just waiting for her to bite him. It astounds me how the most audacious of men will cower in the corner should their manhood be threatened. Hansel clearly valued his, for he kept his hips very still as she moved up and down on him. His array of emotions and moans left me wondering if the sensation was pleasurable. But either way, he only looked at me once but turned his eyes away immediately. He must have been ashamed having never felt so vulnerable in his life.

Lamia must have been on her knees for ten minutes, never stopping once to catch her breath or give Hansel a break. But after her work, she received what she had been looking for. Hansel's hips began to buck slightly and his whole body stiffened. She quickly removed her mouth from his shaft and pulled a bottle from her apron pocket. Hansel gave a great moan as he climaxed. His stickiness shot out, but Lamia had her bottle ready. She gathered a decent amount of his seed and sealed the bottle with a small cork. This act of disrespect angered me to tears. But my threats and insistent chain pulling only left me breathless with very sore wrists.

Lamia rose to her feet and put the bottle away in her apron. She never even bothered to cover Hansel, leaving his pants around his ankles. She approached me and gave me another brutal slap, possibly in response to my many threats and protests during her sinful act. The force of it brought me to my knees, giving her time to shackle my wrists together and put a metal collar around my neck. She unlocked the chains that bound me to the wall.

'You will do as I say and work for me upstairs,' she said as she attached a long chain to my collar, 'If you run, your friend dies.'

After watching what she had done to him, I believed every word. With tears in my eyes, I nodded to her command reluctantly.

'Run, Gretel,' Hansel whispered to me. He was very breathless and tired. 'Don't worry about me.'

Before I could shake my head or even say a single word, Lamia yanked on my chain as though I were a dog. I fell forward awkwardly, just able to stay on my feet. As she led me towards the stairs, I looked at Hansel one last time. Tears rolled down my face, and I could see his eyes glassing over with grief as well.

My lips formed the words, but no sound came out. 'I love you.'

Lamia yanked at my collar again just as we went up the stairs. I prayed my words would give him strength, for my own courage felt very limited. But as I walked up those steps into the cottage, I began to come to grips with our reality. Throughout our time in the woods, Hansel had practically picked me up on his back and carried me through our struggle. But now, he needed me. Any chance of our survival rested on my shoulders. And though I had little idea of how to escape, my determination had never been so focused. I promised myself right there that this old witch would know the pain she put us through and we would win in the end... if I only knew what to do."

Goldy seemed to be clutching hold of Red even tighter now. Gretel noticed her discomfort and could not help but jeer at it. "Is your mind off the forest now, Goldy?"

"It would have been decent of you to explain just how _sinister_ your story was," Goldy stated haughtily, "Now every noise will make me jump in this ghostly old forest."

Gretel laughed a bit. "Say what you want, but I feel like a weight is off my shoulders in telling the more egregious details."

Goldy huffed lightly. "Well, I'll agree with you there," she said while still looking around in fearful trepidation, "But I feel just awful for your dear Hansel. I hope you both made it out alright; just as I hope we make it out of this forest."

Red smiled. "Goldy dear, if you had as much bravery now as you do on the dance floor, the entire forest would be running scared."

* * *

_A late Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. The last few days have been very busy, and this chapter did not want to cooperate. But I am very glad its finished. Once again, Happy Holidays to everyone!_


	28. The Magic Spring

"Goldy, you must let go of my arm," Red stated firmly, "I'm beginning to lose feeling in it."

The blonde slowly released her hold on Red's arm. The three of them had not been walking for very long, despite it feeling like an eternity. True to her word, Goldy jumped at every rustling leaf or snapping twig. Her fear was justifiable. The glow of the lanterns turned harmless branches and rocks into terrifying monsters and lurking shadows. The forest was not free of dangerous animals, but Goldy feared the wicked tendencies of the criminal far more, assuming he had survived his supposed fall from a cliff. Her companions seemed to be getting along fine. The forest was Red's lifelong home, so naturally she showed no fear in its presence. Gretel was far too occupied with her job of tracking footprints to show any kind of apprehension.

"It's your turn, Goldy," Red said, "You should resume telling your story."

Gretel shook her head. "If your story continues to be as horrific, perhaps now is not a good time. Even I might be unsettled by more stories of rape and beastly men."

"No, no," Goldy disagreed intently, "The next part of my story is a happy memory. It will do me good to think of something joyful from my youth."

"It's about time," Red stated, "I began to worry your story would be perpetually depressing."

"Thankfully it is not," Goldy sighed, "Like the two of you, I found my own lover in the forest."

"For the second time, I woke in that dreadful house. And again, the youngest member of the family was there to greet me. Upon my waking, he silently laid a bowl of porridge in my lap, which I was barely able to stomach. But I forced myself spoonful after spoonful, knowing I would be glad for the nutrition later. The son rudely watched me as I did, though I suppose he was not being deliberately tactless. He just needed a lesson in manners. To relieve the awkwardness, I asked him his name.

'Junior,' he said softly, 'I already know your name. You're Goldilocks.'

He said my full name as though it were my first. But I did not think to correct him. For the moment, I was just relieved no one was hurting me.

Junior was not shy about his curiosity. He seemed genuinely interested in me, as though I were the first girl he had ever seen. I still remember exactly what he looked like. His hair was thick, almost like fur. It looked as though someone had taken a knife and sloppily hacked into it, leaving it bushy and very wild. The sepia color reminded me of the peeling bark of a cedar tree. But despite his unkempt mane, he was notably handsome. It was hard for me to look away from his rusty brown eyes. They watched me with childlike wonder, as though any moment I would turn into a fairy.

After finishing my breakfast, Junior extended his very large hands out to me, helping me out of bed. But immediately he began to turn from me uncomfortably once I was on my feet. I looked down at my dress only to notice that my right bosom was almost completely on display. I don't know how one forgets something so awful, but the mere sight of myself was enough to bring the entire horrible memory back. Someone may as well have punched me in the chest. I lost all breath in my lungs, and the air before my eyes grew foggy. I could feel my heart begin to slow, as though death were upon me. My knees hit hard against the floor, but my body had become far too numb to register the pain.

A brown blur knelt down in front of me. Two giant hands took hold of my shoulders.

'Goldilocks,' the blur said to me. 'Are you okay?'

I reached forward and put my hand on the crook of his shoulder to stop the world from spinning. After a few heaving breaths, things became a little more steady and I could focus my eyes. Junior was a welcome sight.

'Do you want some water? Maybe fresh air?' he asked me.

'I could do with both,' I wheezed weakly.

I will say, Junior was very tenacious at times. Once he got an idea in his head, he set out to make it happen. For no sooner had the words left my lips, my entire body was lifted off the floor and cradled in a sturdy pair of arms. I had little strength to object. Apparently his father was out of the house, for Junior carried me down the stairs and through the front door with little fear and no obstacles. At first I assumed he would stop at the water pump outside, but instead, he continued to plow into the forest. I managed to steal one last glance at the cottage as it disappeared behind the trees. Leaving that awful place brought a small amount of comfort to me. I may not have known where Junior was taking me, but at the moment, I did not care. Anywhere was better than that cottage.

Junior trudged through the undergrowth with a strange bumbling grace, like a large animal moving through the brush with little trouble. Clearly the addition of my weight did not burden him. His long legs made the journey seem very short, though I was certain we were a significant distance from the cottage. But Junior knew exactly where we were going and only stopped once or twice to listen. For what, I would not know, but he moved his head about like a startled deer.

The sound of running water caught my attention, and Junior seemed to be headed for it. Before long, we approached a small opening in the ground surrounded by moss-covered rocks. Blue, cloudy water overflowed from it, trickling down a small slope of stones to create a babbling brook that contorted into the distance and disappeared into the trees. Flowers of every color encircled the spring as though it possessed magical qualities. And if only for a moment, I stopped breathing in its presence. Junior gently set me down right on the small bank. He placed me so close to the water that I could feel the wetness of the rocks seeping through my dress. A tin cup sat on a nearby stone, clear evidence that this place had been visited before. Junior took it and dipped it gently into the spring, barely making a ripple on the surface of the water. And with the same softness, he placed the cup into my hands and helped me raise it to my lips.

Never in this world had I tasted something so miraculous. The water rushed over my tongue and brought a sensation of relief that I have yet to experience again. No medicine in the world could compare. The fogginess in my head lifted immediately, and I lost the severe feeling to purge my stomach. As the cup emptied, I sat up straight and gave a grand sigh.

'Feel better?' Junior suddenly asked.

I had almost forgotten he was sitting right next to me. 'Most definitely,' I sighed.

'This is my spring,' he said with a smile. 'Maw and Paw don't know about it.'

'Do you visit it often,' I asked.

'As often as I can,' he said, 'It has healing powers.'

A few days ago I would have scoffed at such a notion, deeming it infantile and beneath me. But now, I looked at the water with raised eyebrows, seriously contemplating the truth in his statement.

'Whenever Paw gets mad, I come here to make the pain go away,' he said, resting his arms on his bent knees as he gazed at his cloudy reflection in the water.

My brow furrowed. 'He hits you.'

As a response, he reached behind his back and lifted his shirt up, revealing what looked like the aftermath of a whipping post. My breath left me at the sight of it. The scars were so gruesome that my eyes watered at the very sight of them. Without really thinking, I reached out and touched his side. He moved beneath my touch as though I had hurt him, so naturally I retreated my hand.

'I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" I asked.

'No,' he almost whispered, 'It actually felt good.'

My face grew very warm. A strong urge came over me to touch him again, but such a thing would clearly be too forward. I looked down at the water, thinking to myself. I began to wonder what a bath in such pristine water would feel like, yearning for the feeling of cleanliness. Yesterday's incident left me feeling indescribably filthy, inside and out. And with all my strength, I could not stop it from repeating in my mind. I could hear the animalistic grunts of Junior's father as he forced himself into me over and over again. The humiliation was devastating. But strangely enough, the one thing I just could not forget was the moment he looked me over and called me ugly. Had I really fallen so far? Had everything that I had been through robbed me of my beauty? Some might think such a thought was silly, but in my grief, I believed it to be true. I certainly felt ugly. There was no going back now, no hope for me. I would forever remain unwanted and unclean. My eyes stared down at the blue water, salty droplets overflowing from my eyes silently. Who can say how long I stayed in that strange trace of sorrow. But a freshly picked blue blossom interrupted my thoughts. Junior's giant hand gently held the flower in front of me.

'I'm sorry about what Paw did to you,' he said as I took the offering. His voice had grown soft. 'And I'm sorry I couldn't..."

His forehead rested on his knees, hiding his amber eyes from me. I waited for him to finish his sentence, but the silence continued on. A stabbing pain formed in my chest. I finally realized. Junior blamed himself for what happened to me. It must have been a feeling of complete helplessness, knowing his father was forcing another innocent into their world of anger and abuse and being absolutely powerless to stop it. Watching Junior feel such intense sorrow over me was more than I could bear. And I just reacted without really thinking.

I embraced him softly, my hand holding the back of his head and my fingers hidden in his thick hair like fallen timbers in tall grass. He smelt of the ground and the trees, a scent that can quickly become intoxicating. Junior lifted his head up, unintentionally brushing his face close to mine. His eyes glistened with tears, the kind of tears seen in a freshly orphaned child. I slowly kissed him on the forehead. But before I could stop myself, I placed another on the bridge of his nose, and then another just to the side of his mouth. Each one felt better than the other. This exchange of affection numbed the pain for both of us I guess, for Junior never shied away from me as I continued. And when I finally placed my lips on his, it felt as though we had melted together.

I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it upwards. He lifted his arms to aid in its removal, which only encouraged me further. I could not believe how built he was. The farm boys on my family estate could not compare, I assure you. My eyes gazed over his chest while I unlaced the back of my dress. The strings loosened and the top fell, revealing my breasts completely to Junior. The way he stared made me feel beautiful again, like everything that had happened didn't matter. He did not move, so I continued undressing. And once I was fully unclothed, I sat on my knees in front of him. I watched his eyes move over my naked frame almost in a sense of wonder. Clearly I was his first and possibly the first young girl he had ever known. I guess this meant I would have to lead in our sexual waltz.

I crawled on top of him and looped my fingers on the top of his trousers. One swift pull removed them, revealing Junior's affair. I guess this was technically the first time I'd ever actually _seen_ one, so I could not help but stare for a moment. It was impressive, an obvious family trait considering the painful size of his father's. Its true length was beginning to show. Junior was clearly enthused.

'Goldilocks,' I heard him gasp a little. He looked a little scared. Can't say I was any braver. But I wanted it. In fact, I needed it. And even though both of our hearts jumped madly in fear, I still did my best to calm him.

'Don't worry,' I cooed. 'I promise it will be fine.'

Straddling his hips, I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back, trying to help him relax. His member brushed up against my entrance as I moved around, and he squirmed a little beneath me in reaction. It amazed me that someone so large and so strong could look so helpless and frail. But I could still sympathize. He and I were now kindred spirits. And I felt a connection to him I had never experienced before, that of two broken souls desperately trying to find sanctuary. And now we could find it in each other.

I raised myself up. And with all the strength I could muster in my legs, I lowered myself onto him slowly, inch by inch. And when he was entirely in me, I took a moment to let us both catch our stammered breaths. Sitting there in the silence, my cheeks quickly grew hot with a sensual realization. Never had I imagined a woman could sit atop a man so comfortably with his member inside her. And here I sat astride my own young stallion, his large affair filling me up entirely. Such a thought thrilled me so much that I began moving up and down on him.

I could feel Junior tense up beneath me. All he did was watch me for the first two minutes or so. I guess I might have scared him, which felt rather funny to me. A petite curly haired girl had frightened a young man nearly the size and strength of a bear. Feeling in control gave me some sort of satisfaction, as though giving myself to a man was once again my choice and not something to be stolen from me.

'Miss Goldilocks,' he gasped, 'You're so beautiful.'

My eyes watered at his statement. Beautiful... Could it be? Was I beautiful again? Junior said it with such sincerity that I knew it must be true. The pain had been numbed, and I could have a moment of happiness once again. I only wanted Junior. And I couldn't imagine sharing this moment with anyone else.

After some time, he finally chimed in with my movements and began moving his hips up in rhythm with me. This gave us momentum and the pace quickly picked up. Soon, I could barely stay upright from all the motion. I felt as though I were taming a wild horse, trying to stay on as it bucked around feverishly. I leaned forward in an attempt to keep from falling off and grabbed him underneath his shoulders, my chest pressing against his. He in turn grabbed my thighs and effortlessly moved me up and down on his member.

The familiar feeling of intense heat bellowed within me. I could feel my climax beginning to rise. But before I reached my end, Junior gave a loud groan.

'Goldilocks,' he struggled to say, a desperate tone in his voice. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Immediately rolled off of him, just missing the stream of whiteness that erupted from his manhood. He arched his back and moaned in absolute bliss. And after a few seconds, all that was left to hear was his steady breath and the sound of the trickling spring.

I laid next to him, staring up at the trees and listening. Even though I did not reach my peak, I wasn't disappointed. Junior had done so much for me already, whether he knew it or not.

'Miss Goldilocks,' he said, 'Are you alright?'

I smiled at his consideration. 'Yes, Junior. I'm alright.'

'I didn't hurt you, did I,' he asked worriedly.

I laughed a little. 'No, not at all. It was actually quite wonderful.'

I sat up and looked at the spring that lay in front of us. He did so as well, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I smiled and sighed lightly, surrounded by an aura of peace I had never known before.

'Junior,' I said, breaking the silence, 'I think we could use a bath.' Upon which, he happily agreed."

Gretel and Red both seemed genuinely contented by the sweet story, even as they remained determined in their tasks of navigating the forest. Goldy seemed in much brighter spirits upon telling her story as well.

"I'm afraid I might be jealous of your special spring. As miraculous as my woods are, I would give my wealth for something so magical," Red stated.

"At times, I would give anything to go back there and taste that water once again," Goldy sighed. "Perhaps one day, I will."

"I hope you will remember to bring us along," Gretel smiled, even as she continued tracking.

Goldy laughed a little. "It would only be under your influences that I would go in the first place."

* * *

_If ever there was a chapter that did not want to be written, this was it. Hello everyone. Yes, I have returned, after possibly rewriting this scene a dozen times. Other things in my life have been distracting as well, so I apologize for the lengthy hiatus from this story. I never stopped thinking about it this entire time, and I have every intention of finishing it. So don't be too worried. I will try to get the next chapter us as soon as possible._


	29. Betrayal

_Author's Note: In the spirit of the original Lost Girls story, I have decided to dabble into other forms of sexuality. If you find your sensitivities are best suited for more traditional sexual relations, this chapter might not be for you. But all the same, please enjoy. _

* * *

"How much longer? Are you sure we are not lost?"

"Goldy, we are following a very distinct trail of footprints," Gretel said sternly, "We can't be lost."

"But it feels like we have been walking for ages," Goldy sighed, "And the forest is still terrifying."

Indeed, the forest still echoed with spooky sounds of the night. Shadows cast by the swinging lanterns danced in and out of the trees, resembling mischievous spooks stalking the women as they walked. But the real danger was nothing of supernatural sort. Red kept a weather eye open for the true threat; a man of criminal nature wandering about in her woods. True, it is supposed he is dead now. But until she saw it with her own eyes, she refused to believe it. She looked around to find her bearings.

"We may not need the footprints anymore," Red stated, "I know where we are and which cliff we are assuredly headed for. Let me lead the way now, Gretel."

The German did as she was told, thankful she no longer had to bend low to the ground to track. "Perhaps if you know exactly where we are going, you could tell us the next part of your story, Red," she commented as she moved behind the determined inn owner.

"I don't see why not," Red stated, "Though I hope you will not find this next chapter _too_ scandalous."

"Well, we won't know until you tell us," Goldy said, now clinging closely to Gretel.

"Alright, if you believe you can handle it.

It had only been a few days since Daniel and I had said goodbye. And unsurprisingly, I had become very depressed and sullen over the matter. I walked around the house in silence, wafting around like a ghost. Everything felt as though it were happening very slowly. I lost motivation to do my chores and especially visit grandma. A trip to the old bat's house would only remind me that Daniel would no longer be at his chopping block waiting for me to ravish him whole. Mother took notice of my lackluster attitude and insisted I tell her what was wrong. But I could not. I could never tell her of the sinful things I had done. It would break her heart to know her daughter had become so hedonistic and lusty. And it would especially hurt her to know my frequent trips to grandmother's house had selfish underlying motives. Hence why I would not tell her. She became rather irritated with me and finally insisted that I go back to grandmother's house. I could not bare my dear mother being upset with me, so I arranged a basket of food and reluctantly headed out early one morning.

As I walked, I periodically felt for the knife holster strapped to my thigh. I only did so because it reminded me of Daniel, which in turn only made me more downtrodden. I sighed lightly, still thinking of our many days together and what I would miss most about him. As I neared his chopping block, a small flicker of hope burned in my chest that he might be there. But it was swiftly blown out when I reached the familiar place and it was abandoned. I even searched around a little, looking for signs of life. I sat on the tall wooden block and waited for a few minutes, perhaps wishing he might feel the same pain and return. But such was not the case. And after a while, I gathered my basket and left.

I had to ask myself, why did it bother me so much? Did Daniel really mean that much to me? Had I developed feelings for him? Those questions tormented me as I walked. And what if I was in love with him? Would it even matter if I told him? I just did not know. I had never fallen in love before. So how was I suppose to sort out any of these thoughts in my head?

I walked slowly, not feeling any special incentive to keep a good pace. I listened to the trees wave in the light breeze. It almost sounded like human voices at times. I lifted my head up and stopped on the trail. There was a strange groaning sound in the distance. Maybe it was an old tree trunk moaning against the wind. It could even just be some poor animal. But something did not feel right. I listened very carefully, trying not to make a single sound, even holding my breath to aid the silence. There is was again; the faint sound of voices.

Maybe I thought I would find Daniel. But I was intensely curious to know where those sounds were coming from. I stepped off the path and began following the voices into the woods. It was hard to pinpoint their exact direction at first. But soon, I could easily hear them. They were clearly human. But something was very odd about them. I drew so close to the sounds that I feared I might walk right upon whomever was making them. I quietly pulled back a bit of shrub and looked around. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

It was Daniel. He laid face down on the ground, his body entirely bare. That is what I saw at first. But then I noticed the movement. His body was lurching back and forth is a very familiar pattern. My eyes grew wide in complete shock when I realized someone was on his tail end. I could not tell who, for the two had retreated underneath a low hanging tree, the shade and branches easily masking the face of Daniel's companion. But it was a man, I could tell that much. I knew, for I watched the stranger's long member enter Daniel over and over again, his hands grasping Daniel's hips and forcing him in rhythm with the thrusts.

Immediately I began to feel sick. But despite that, I could not look away. Never in my life had I heard of such a thing. And for a moment, I had trouble understanding how two men could make love. But watching the exchange for merely a few seconds easily educated me on the matter. I sank down to my knees, still watching the display through the leaves. Daniel grasped handfuls of grass in his hands. His face contorted in what looked like pain. But his heavy breathing and stifled moans almost made it seem he was enjoying it in some way.

I wanted to believe it wasn't true. Though I had never admitted any feelings for Daniel, this act of lust almost felt like betrayal. And I was genuinely hurt. Had this been going on while we were together? Had he been sleeping with a man the entire time? And had he lied to me just to be with this new lover? Such an idea made my eyes cloud over with tears.

The stranger began to pick up speed. This in turn made Daniel raise his voice in reaction. There was nothing polite about it. The stranger began pounding into him with a ferocity that almost seemed cruel. I imagined what it would have been like had Daniel ever treated me that way. More so, I began to wonder what this new sensation must be like and why Daniel never asked to try it with me. It looked painful, but at the same time, I felt a small warmth in my womanhood thinking about it. What an awful notion! How could I feel so hurt, sickened, and aroused all at the same time? The conflict of it all made my stomach retch.

Suddenly, the stranger gave a loud groan, and his entire body stiffened. He had reached his climax. Daniel began cringing, almost like an expression of humiliation. What an utterly bizarre experience for him. Usually only women experience being filled with a man's seed. I could only imagine how Daniel must have felt.

The stranger took a moment to breathe, leaving himself inside. But then he slowly pulled out and brought his hand down hard on Daniel's buttock, grabbing at the flesh. And that was all I could take.

I quietly made my way out of there, so many emotions twisting my insides into knots. And as soon as I knew they could no longer hear me, I began running back to the trail. I ran for almost the entire way to grandma's house. I looked an absolute mess once I finally arrived, my nose and eyes running like a broken water pump. Upon entering the cottage, I did not even bother calling out to grandma and telling her I had arrived. I just sniffled to myself and went to the kitchen to start on dishes.

'Ey now, what's wrong with you, Red,' I heard grandma say to me. I turned to see her slouched a little in the kitchen doorway. For once, she did not have a bottle in her hand.

I blinked at the question and returned to my dish washing. 'Nothing,' I muttered, though admittedly I was surprised she noticed my grief.

'You can't lie to your grandma,' she stated, shuffling her feet over to the kitchen table where my basket laid. 'I know something's the matter. Quit your cleaning and come over here.'

I sighed and rinsed my hands off. Grandma had already pulled out various pastries from my basket and arranged them to her liking. I slumped down next to her, propping my elbow up on the table. She pushed a danish in front of me.

'Tell your old granny about it,' she insisted in her usual grizzly tone.

I looked at the danish in thought. I was in no mood to share my feelings with the old drunk witch.

Grandma laughed a little out of the corner of her mouth at my stubborn silence, spitting a few crumbs on the table. 'Let me guess,' she bellowed, 'Does it have anything to do with that dashing young man you've been showing up with for the past few weeks?'

I blinked and inhaled at her correct assumption. Again, she laughed.

'Thought so,' she huffed, 'He hurt you? Take advantage of you?'

My brow furrowed at her tactlessness. 'No,' I insisted, 'I just saw him... do something... that I never thought he would do,' I struggled to explain, 'And... it feels like a stab in the back.' Angry tears began to fill my eyes.

'Oh,' she said, 'Ya think there might be a reason for what he did?'

I shook my head, a tear rolling down my cheek. 'I don't see how that's possible. Not in this circumstance.'

'Well, you never know, dear Red,' she stated while chewing, 'In these types of situations, it's wise to believe _none_ of what you hear and only _half_ of what you see. And there's nothing like getting the truth straight from the horse's mouth. The only way you can be sure is to ask him yourself.'

By then I had started crying again, sniffling loudly and wiping my nose on the back of my wrist. Grandma handed me a much needed handkerchief. I blew my nose and looked up at her curiously. She was certainly acting out of character. In fact, I had never seen her behave so civilized, though I use that term rather lightly. I had to ask.

'Why... why are you being so nice to me, grandma?'

She smiled slightly. 'To be honest, Red, I've just grown rather fond of you,' she stated, 'With all the trips you've been making up to this lonely old cottage, I can only assume that you give some sort of lick about me.'

I wanted to die as she said that. A bullet to my head would have been less painful than the guilt crushing my chest. I did not deserve her compassion, even as horrible as she had been to me. I had been too busy with my own lustful desires to realize my frequent visits made any sort of difference. A few tears escaped from my eyes, and I wiped them away with the handkerchief. Grandma put a hand on my shoulder. It was the first time I could remember that she had ever shown any affection towards me. I blew my nose once more and glance up at her. What a grizzled, old drunk she was. But in that instant, beneath the years of hard drinking and manic depression, she actually looked like a doting grandmother. And I could not help but return her smile."

Gretel and Goldy released their breath almost in unison as Red finished her tale. The inn owner stared forward, still walking through the woods, never stopping or hesitating in her steps. She waited patiently for someone to respond.

"That truly was a scandalous chapter. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I found it physically compelling," Gretel said after an awkward moment of silence.

"Thank goodness I was not the only one," Goldy sighed heavily, her cheeks flushing red, "Though I am terribly confused as to why Daniel would do such a thing. The next installment of your tale cannot come soon enough."

Red came to an abrupt halt. "It will have to wait for now...," Red said with sudden weight in her voice, her eyes glassing over with a familiar wolfish stare, "... because we are here."


	30. On The Edge

What a strange sight it must have been; a glowing orb slowly traveling down the side of the cliff. To a spectator standing at a distance, it could easily be mistaken for a wandering spirit. The ghostly glow wafted downwards but immediately stopped once it reached the bottom, dangling only a foot or two off the ground. But anyone who ventured closer would know this phantom manifestation was nothing more than a lantern hung from a rope. And up on the cliff were the women wielding its light.

"I don't see anything from here," Goldy called to Red as she gazed downwards. The innkeeper bent forward over the edge, the rope firmly clasped in her hands. Goldy had placed herself a few yards further away on the ledge, attempting to gain a better angle to see below. Gretel had done the same in the other direction.

"Swing it this way, Red," the German called out from her vantage point. Cautiously, Red moved the rope around, feeling the lantern on the end react accordingly. With a little more momentum, the ghostly glow swung back and forth, giving both Gretel and Goldy better views of what lay below.

"Anything at all?" Red called out, still concentrating on the pendulum swing of the rope.

Gretel's heart raced with anticipation. Her eyes darted about quickly, scanning the rocks and shrubs below with each swing of the light. But after a few moments of searching, she stood up straight, slumping her shoulders in disappointment. "No, I don't see anything down there," Gretel sighed.

Red gave an irritated growl from the back of her throat. "Are you sure?" she called out.

"Yes," Goldy answered from the other side of the cliff.

Red exhaled loudly from her nose. She did not even wait for the rope to stop swinging before she began hoisting it back up. "Useless police force," she muttered angrily under her breath.

The two others returned to her side just as the lantern reached the top. "Are you sure this is the right cliff?" Goldy asked uneasily.

"I checked the footprints. This has to be the one," Gretel said.

"What do you make of it, Red," Goldy asked worriedly.

The innkeeper coiled up the last bit of rope over her shoulder and picked up the lantern. Her anger was unmistakable. "The only thing I will assume right now is that our criminal is alive. If he truly fell from this cliff, he is hurt very badly. He may even die from his injuries. But for now, I will not call off my search until someone finds me a body. Now come, ladies. We must return to the inn," she said, her voice remaining eerily calm despite her obvious wrath. And with that, she began walking back up the trail towards home.

Goldy and Gretel looked at each other and sighed. This was not the resolution they had hoped for. If anything, this turn of events raised far too many new questions. But neither of the two ladies had enough courage to speak as they followed their fuming hostess. Having the criminal slip through her fingers again was more than just a disappointment to Red. A dead body at the bottom of that cliff would have given her the peace of mind she craved so fervently. The only solace she took was in the idea the assailant was severely injured and would be much easier to catch. But still, she could not help expressing her irritation as she stomped through the forest.

A few minutes of silence passed by. Only footsteps where heard within the group. Red's eyes remained locked on the trail in front of them. Goldy and Gretel stayed close to each other, periodically looking over their shoulders in trepidation. But suddenly, Red dug her heels into the earth and spread out her arms, forcing her companions to stop just behind her.

"Red, what is it?" Goldy whispered anxiously while looking around in the darkness.

"Shh," Red hushed her. Immediately the sound of rustling foliage followed. Red lifted up her dress quicker than a whip and grabbed one of her knives, extending it out in front of her. "Show yourself," she said mostly to herself.

"Goldy? Goldy," a voice suddenly called out.

"Wait," the blonde reached out and put her hand on Red's extended arm.

A light appeared in the bushes ahead of them. A tall man dressed in an elegant tuxedo emerged from the foliage, a lantern of his own grasped in his fist.

"Goldy! Madame Primrose,' he cried out upon seeing them.

"Jonathan!" Goldy rushed towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"When I couldn't find you at the party, someone told me the three of you had ventured into the woods by yourselves," he stated, "Why would you do something so reckless? And in the middle of the night, no less?"

Gretel stepped in to answer. "We were searching for the body of the criminal," she stated, stepping up behind Red. "Madame Primrose was going to search by herself, but we insisted on following her."

Jonathan huffed in surprise over such an idea. "While I commend your bravery and tenacity, ladies," he started, "you really should have requested a chaperone. It is not safe for women to be out here without an escort."

Gretel's and Goldy's eyes grew wide for a moment. As though their thoughts were in unison, they both turned and looked to Red. The same wolf-like stare had glassed over the innkeeper's eyes, and she stared down Jonathan as though he were an enemy. One side of her mouth twitched upwards in irritation, resembling a dog's growl. Being unable to find her fugitive had angered her enough. Now a thoughtless man decided to patronize her and her friends. Needless to say, the innkeeper's composure was near to rupturing.

Jonathan clearly had not noticed the force of his rather innocently made statement. "Please ladies," he said, "Let me accompany you back to the safety of the inn."

A silence hung in the air. No one moved. It was clear where loyalties had been made. Gretel and Goldy looked to Red for any confirmation. But the innkeeper remained silent, her knife still clenched in her fist. With her eyes heatedly locked on Jonathan, she seemed better suited for a fight than excepting an escort. Goldy looked between the two worriedly, fearful of a confrontation. But suddenly, the innkeeper blinked twice and exhaled through her nose. Without saying a word, she stepped around Jonathan and marched down the trail with great determination.

"Wait for us," Goldy shouted after her. The two ladies quickly ran to catch up with the innkeeper.

Though confused by the proceedings, Jonathan followed as well. He traveled behind the three, keeping his thoughts to himself. Madame Primrose was clearly in a foul mood, though he struggled to understand why. For a while now, he had been seeking an audience with the famous hostess. But the circumstances were rather discouraging in that light. However, consider the Madame's busy schedule and her recent disappearances from the inn, this might be his only opportunity to pursue her attentions. And he was not a man to run in the face of opposition. He quickened his steps to reach her at the front of the group. Goldy noticed his actions and reached out to stop him but unfortunately missed.

"Madame Primrose," he began as he kept pace beside her.

She said nothing.

"I must say I find your inn to be extraordinary in every aspect," he complimented.

Red rolled her eyes subtly. "Thank you," she stated.

"I wanted to tell you, but you have been hard to find lately," he said.

"An inn does not run itself," she said blandly, still focusing on the trail.

Gretel and Goldy glanced sideways at each other. Considering Red's talent in leadership and management, the inn did practically run itself. Most of her attention had gone to her newfound companions, and neither of them were going to complain on the matter. But it was painfully obvious Red was ducking the conversation, probably to keep from lashing out at her guest in irritation. But more painful still was Jonathan's ignorance to this and his relentless attempts to carry on the discussion.

"I read an article written about you once," he said, "It stated you built the inn in less than a year and earned back every cent in just under two. I cannot recall the last time I heard of such extravagant success."

"That article was misguided," she retorted, "I broke even after about ten months."

"My dear woman, you certainly are deserving of respect," he tried to flatter her.

"You think so?" she sighed in annoyance.

"I know so," he stated confidently, "And it would make me exceedingly happy if we could discuss business soon. Perhaps tomorrow over tea or a walk in the woods."

"I'm terribly sorry, but my time has been promised to Miss Eberly and Miss Locks," she said, clearly glad to dodge his proposal.

Goldy suddenly spoke up from behind them. "Oh, I wouldn't mind if Mr. Pierce joined us," she interjected.

Red immediately glanced over her shoulder, eying the blonde with a gaze of admonishment. But Goldy stared back, her eyes imploring a favor from her friend. For whatever reason, it was important to her that the innkeeper and this gentleman get along. So Red sighed heavily in reluctance.

"Gretel," she said, "Would you mind?"

Gretel perked up as though she were not expecting to be part of the conversation. "Uh, no. I don't mind," she said rather uneasily.

"Wonderful!" Jonathan exclaimed. "So tell me, what were your plans for tomorrow, ladies?"

"Breakfast and a walk in the woods," Red stated defeatedly, "You will meet us in the tearoom no later than nine," she commanded.

"Yes ma'am," Jonathan responded happily. Clearly he had received what he'd been seeking. "Let us return to the inn so that we may finish our evening at the North Star Ball. I feel tomorrow will be most inspiring.


	31. Blind Man's Bluff

Red raised her coffee to her lips and glanced to her side as she drank. Jonathan sat directly to her right at the breakfast table. It could have been by happenstance, but Red was paranoid enough to believe he had chosen his spot on purpose, especially considering his attention had been fixated on her since the beginning of the meal. He had barely said anything to the other two ladies and certainly did not allow them a word in the conversation. His knowledge of business and money was extensive, for he never paused as he spoke on the subject. His words flew over his lips like water from a pitcher. Red patiently tolerated his prattling but was relieved when the food arrived and offered a distraction for his busy mouth. Now he seemed very intent on finishing his meal.

Sitting on Jonathan's right was a very disgruntled blonde. All while Jonathan had been talking, her eyes focused on him crossly. The gentleman caller that was supposed to be hers now shunned her for talk of business and fortune. And even though she gladly consumed her generous breakfast, she still fumed to herself over Jonathan's rudeness.

Red dabbed her lips with a napkin. It seemed the rest of her party was nearly done as well. While her eyes searched around, the waiter had appeared at their table. A picnic basket hung in his gloved hand.

"Madame Primrose," he said to her, "The chef has prepared the basket you requested."

He placed it next to her seat.

"Thank you, Howard," she smiled at him, "Give my regards to Nathaniel and his craftsmanship."

As the waiter left, Jonathan eyed the basket that now lay on the floor between him and Red. "A basket? What might it be filled with?"

"I took the liberty of ordering some cake and wine. We have very fine vintages in stock, and no one makes a better pastry than my chef, Nathaniel. I find the woods to be a heavenly spot to enjoy a midday snack," she explained.

Goldy and Gretel both perked up a little, as though their secretive ventures together would still continue unhindered. But there was a small disappointment when both remembered that Jonathan would be along as well. Obviously, running around naked in the forest and telling sinful stories of years gone by would have to be saved for another outing.

"So, my dear guests, shall we be on our way?" Red asked as everyone finished.

"Gladly so," Jonathan stood up enthusiastically. Red bent down to pick up the basket, but Jonathan quickly snatched it up before her, giving a teasing smile as he did. The action irritated the innkeeper somewhat, but she remained pleasant enough as she led them out the door and to the trail.

Now was a time to be strategical, and Goldy used the opportunity to deflect anymore of Jonathan's advances on Red. She placed herself at the innkeeper's left as they walked on the narrow trail, feeling reassured that Gretel had taken the right. But that was not all the blonde had up her sleeve. She looked over her shoulder at Jonathan who had been left holding the basket in the back.

"Jonathan, dear," she said to him with a luscious smile, "might I ask you to tarry back a few paces? I must speak with Madame Primrose and Miss Eberly on an exclusively _female_ matter," she batted her eyes.

He blinked twice and his lips pursed a little bit. Suddenly it became hard for him to keep eye contact. "Certainly," he said, slowing his pace to a crawl just as his cheeks flushed with a light pink. Once there was considerable distance between him and the ladies, Goldy sighed heavily.

"Terribly sorry that he has been chatting your ear off, Red," she kept her voice low.

The innkeeper laughed a little. "It's quite alright. Though I must say your skills in male manipulation are impressive."

"Years of practice." All three ladies giggled, trying to restrain themselves so Jonathan would not hear.

"I dare say I was getting suspicious you might steal Goldy's gentleman caller away," Gretel stated in jest.

"If he talks as abundantly when in love, she can have him," Red laughed, "Though this really is not out of the ordinary. Most of my businessmen guests frequently wish to speak with me on the subject simply because a female business owner is so novel to them. They either wish to learn my secrets or have a cheap thrill from listening to a woman talk finance and economics."

"My hope is he will eventually grow tired of it and behave himself," Goldy huffed.

"Fret not. He will," Red reassured her, "Though I must reiterate that it was your idea for him to join us. Not regretting it, are we?"

Goldy shook her head. "Please, Red. I merely hoped we could all get along and have a pleasant day."

"I hope your sudden attachment to Mr. Pierce is not an aspiration of matrimony," Gretel eyed her suspiciously.

The blonde smiled at the observation. "Suppose it is," she said, her eyes half closed in thought, "He is a fine gentleman. And more so, he seems uninterested in my money or land; an absent trait in all other suitors to have come my way."

"All except for Junior," Gretel thoughtlessly blurted out.

Goldy glanced irritably at her friend from the corner of her eye. Red interrupted. "Well, if Mr. Pierce really is important to you, I shall play the charming hostess as best I can. I trust your judgement in men, my dear."

Such a compliment coming from Red made Goldy shrink in modesty. Gretel offered her promise as well. "Indeed. We shall be on our best behavior."

With loyalty so steadfast, how could anyone ask for more? Goldy gave a wide grin and wrapped an arm around Red. The innkeeper gladly returned the embrace with Gretel completing the group hug on the other side.

Jonathan blinked in surprise at the displays of affection from the ladies ahead of him on the trail. Clearly, the bond shared by these women was greater than he anticipated. It was now obvious his invitation into their coterie was no small accomplishment and could not have been done without the grace of Miss Locks. He lowered his eyes to the ground as the thought crossed his mind. A pain formed in his chest and carried into his throat. But he swallowed it back and put on a pleasant face. For after he had patiently followed the ladies for a good distance and off the trail to bravely trudge though the thick forest floor, they came to a beautiful clearing that sat on the bank of the Crimson River.

"Oh, Red, our special glade! What a perfect spot," Goldy cooed excitedly at the familiar place. She grabbed Gretel's hand, and the two went to gaze at the river.

Jonathan glanced around, still holding the basket. The spot was remarkably beautiful, carpeted by the greenest grass and kissed with flowers of all colors. He was so in awe that he barely noticed that Red relieved him of the basket and began preparing a lovely spread atop an elegant ivory pink blanket in the middle of the glade. Though when she opened up the basket, she was surprised to see at least five bottles of wine. She sighed in slight annoyance. Her high alcohol tolerance was no secret to the kitchen staff, so naturally the chef added plenty to spare, knowing a full bottle would barely be enough to have any effect on the innkeeper. Red had no intention of drinking that much in the presence of her companions. But at least this would offer a wide selection.

Jonathan sat on the blanket in front of her and quietly helped lay out the various plates and napkins. "Terribly sorry about all the business prattle," he said after a moment of silence.

Red blinked and looked up at him, her hands still busy with work.

He smiled weakly. "I realize you have probably lost your taste for the topic after years of stuffy businessmen prodding you for secrets."

Red raised her eyebrow slightly. "It really does not bother me," she said, "I am happy for their patronage and am always willing to chat with my guests."

"Please Madame," he said with sincerity,"I wish you would not speak so much like a professional, at least not for now. Perhaps, if we all treated each other as friends, the day could be even more lovely."

Red looked at him with an amused smile. "Many of my guests have tried to lower my guard before. It will take sweeter talk than yours to do so, Mr. Pierce."

He chuckled under his breath. The challenge sounded very rousing. To a woman as resolute as Madame Primrose, sincere amity with others was a fair sacrifice for success. And even though Goldy and Miss Eberly had found their way into her personal circle of companionship, her professional tendencies were far too inveterate for her to completely relax in Jonathan's presence. But being a tenacious man, he was still intent on breaking through the wall she had established.

Goldy and Gretel returned and eagerly sat upon the blanket. Red passed around plates with various confectionaries, being mindful to give Goldy a generous portion to appease her voracious appetite. The blonde had cozied up next to Jonathan leaning in towards him as they smiled and laughed, gladly partaking in the freshly poured wine. Gretel openly joined the pleasant conversation as well, casually taking sips from her glass. It was true, Red's inn certainly had fine vintages at hand. Whether it was chardonnay or pinot noir, it flowed over the lips effortlessly; so much so that the effects became noticeable after only an hour or two of conversation. As happy as everyone had started out, the joy multiplied even further with each empty glass. Gretel proved to be a master of comedy when given enough wine, for she had Goldy and Jonathan in absolute hysterics with her quips and quibbles.

To Red's relief, she was no longer the center of attention. In fact, she remained mostly quiet, taking pleasure in listening and sipping casually. In truth, she had not even refilled her first glass, even as her companions were asking for their fourth. It would not have mattered. Her tolerance to the drink was far too advanced to even attempt inebriation of any sort. Besides, it was her duty as a hostess to remain clear in the head.

Goldy rose to her feet, wobbling a little as she did. "My word, I feel like a jaunty schoolgirl. It would be great fun if we could play a game," she declared amongst the mad laughter.

"Yes, the very thing," Jonathan instantly agreed, his breath thick with the smell of fermentation. "What shall it be?"

Gretel sat up on her knees. "Forfeits!"

"Perhaps Look-a-Bout," Goldy exclaimed.

Red smiled. "Blind Man's Bluff," she added.

"Oh, I haven't played that since I was a lad," Jonathan stated, "Shall I have a go first?"

"If you believe you are quick and clever enough," Goldy teased. She grabbed a large napkin and began folding it into a proper blindfold. With Gretel and Red now on their feet, Goldy tied the cloth around Jonathan's eyes and spun him around three times.

"Catch us if you can," Goldy exclaimed as Jonathan was set free. The blonde and Gretel ran off in opposite directions, laughing and shouting jeers to him as he wandered about with hands extended outwards.

"Do not underestimate me, ladies," he shouted to them, his speech rather slurred, "I proved to be an expert at this game in my youth."

Red smiled lightly at the merriness but immediately wandered off away from the others. She really had no interest in games at present and was in need of a moment to herself. She drifted over to the bank of the Scarlet River, looking into the peaceful flow thoughtfully, her arms crossed over her chest. Even amongst the mirth and glee, her mind was fixated on the proceedings of the night before. With the high probability that the criminal was drastically injured, it felt as though his capture was neigh. This in turn made the innkeeper restless and eager. Several of the security staff were searching the forest even at that moment. Surely they would find him. It was only a matter of time. And then her mind would finally settle.

Suddenly, the bushes rustled way off to her right. Jonathan emerged from the foliage, the blindfold still tied tightly around his face. He muttered to himself and stumbled around clumsily, still under the influence of the wine. With his hands outstretched in front of him, he aimlessly headed for Red. She smiled and exhaled through her nose, staying right where she was. Just as he drew near, she extended her forearm out to him. His hand brushed over her arm and he gently took hold of it.

"Ah, I have captured someone," he laughed. "Let's see. It must be... Miss Eberly," he guessed.

"I'm afraid you are incorrect," Red smiled.

Jonathan released her arm and lifted the blindfold from his eyes. "Ah, Madame Primrose," he said, his eyes softening, "Though I guessed wrong, I cannot say I am entirely disappointed."

Red's smile disappeared. "I beg your pardon."

He moved a bit closer to her. "Please permit me. There is something I wish to say to you."

Goldy skipped about through the thick bushes and low hanging tree branches, looking around for her pursuer. But somehow he had disappeared. Either that or she had managed to lose herself entirely in the thicket. But just as she was tempted to call out for her friends, she heard the voice of her gentleman caller. She headed towards the sound happily and stopped just short of a small clearing where Jonathan was speaking with Red. Confused as to why neither of them were playing the game, she listened into the conversation for a few moments, hidden in the thick foliage.

Jonathan took Red's hand and held it tenderly with both of his. "Madame Primrose, I really must make a confession."

Red's brow furrowed, feeling invaded by his proximity and touch.

"I find you remarkable in every perceptible way," he stated very sincerely, "You are a woman of impeccable strength. And to be blunt, the more time I spend in your company, the more irresistible you become. I... I feel I am falling for you."

Goldy's eyes grew wide. Her heart quickened in pace, though her legs would not move. Her voice remained stuck in her throat, leaving her only able to continue listening.

Red looked at him in surprise for a second or two, the silence hanging heavily in the air. But then, a wolf-like glare glassed over her eyes and her nose wrinkled up angrily. She yanked her hand away from him. "Mr. Pierce, you are not the first man to profess feelings for me, nor will you likely be the last. And under normal circumstances, I would politely decline and we could carry on unscathed. But are you not currently courting _another_ young lady?" Her words felt like teeth tearing into flesh.

Jonathan backed away a little, intimidated by her harsh tone. "You.. you mean... Miss Locks?"

A flame flickered in Red's eyes. "Yes! Miss Locks! The blonde one you danced with at the North Star Ball! The one who so fervently insisted that you come along with us! Remember her?" she bit sarcastically.

He turned away from her, his eyes cast onto the ground. "Yes, I know I am suppose to be with Goldy. I do believe she is a very fine, intelligent woman; a gem for any man to have. And I really do have strong feelings for her," he sighed, clearly frustrated by the current circumstance. He turned his eyes back up to Red. "But I see you and all you have created on your own, the respect you command, and the people you have influenced. And I find myself intoxicated by your presence."

He moved closer to her, a hand outstretched. But Red backed away immediately. "You have tested my patience, Mr. Pierce," she stated firmly, "Miss Locks is one of few people I can call _friend_. To sit idly by while someone breaks her heart is something I cannot do. Your feelings matter not to me, and I will have none of your ardor. If you are foolish enough to cast aside a brilliant woman as Miss Locks, than you deserve to be alone all your days," she spat.

Clearly her words stung. A heavy pain formed in his chest. He reached out to her once more. "Please...," he began.

Suddenly, an angry scream erupted from the bushes. Before he could even react, Jonathan felt a pair of hands connect with his torso and push him with great intensity. The force of it knocked him completely off balance. And in the next second, his entire body fell like timber, landing with a loud splash in the river.

Goldy stood there with clenched fists, breathing so heavily that she resembled a snorting bull. Her face had grown red with anger, and she continued to glare as Jonathan's head broke the surface of the water.

Red stared wide eyed between Goldy and Jonathan for a few seconds, stunned by the turn of events. But out of the intense silence, a chortle escaped her lips. Soon she was doubled over with laughter, even holding her sides as Jonathan clumsily made his way back to the bank.

"Goldy dear, you truly are brilliant!"


	32. A Willing Slave

The fire danced about, gray smoke billowing up from the flames. Jonathan rubbed his bare shoulders with his hands, the slight breeze in the air chilling him to the bone. Even more chilling were the intense stares of distain he received from the other side of the clearing. The three women sat together about twenty yards away, leaving Jonathan to dry himself by the fire. His shirt and pants hung over a nearby branch, water dripping from every seam. His only protection from the elements, as well as the wandering eyes of the ladies, was a white pair of drawers. However, considering they were sopping wet from his unexpected dip in the river, his nethers were not exactly a secret anymore.

Goldy glared at him from afar. No tears filled her eyes, though she was overtly upset. Red and Gretel sat with her, their presence giving her some solace. It would be useless to be angry with Red over the incident. But a twinge of jealousy remained in the bottom of Goldy's stomach, and her mind raced with indiscriminate comparisons between her and the innkeeper, in beauty and otherwise. It simply could not be helped after the sting of a lover's betrayal. At first, she had wanted to leave Jonathan behind and return to the inn, but Red refused. He would, for sure, be lost in the woods if he did not return with them.

Gretel drew in the dirt with a stick. "Do you suppose that was his intention all along?" she asked.

Goldy thought for a moment. "Perhaps not at first. He had asked to meet with Red before, but who's to say when he started falling for her," she sighed, her eyes turning to the ground.

The innkeeper's brow furrowed. "Please, Goldy," she admonished, "Do not act as though I have defeated or bested you. I did not ask for his attention nor seek it."

"But nevertheless, it was your charms that ruined any future endeavors I may have had with him," Goldy retorted.

Gretel threw the stick down, making a thwack on the ground. "Ladies, an argument over him only warrants that he is worth one," she gestured towards Jonathan.

Goldy and Red sighed in unison, conceding to Gretel's valid point. A few minutes passed. There was silence again amongst the ladies. Red was clearly in thought and Gretel had taken up drawing in the dirt once more. But Goldy just stared at her former lover. He hunched over himself close to the fire for warmth. Goldy's eyes traveled over his body, instantly reminding her of their earlier affair in the woods. Her chest tightened as the heaviness of heartache came upon her. But though it brought her pain, she could not stop herself from reliving the steamy liaison in her mind. Even before arriving at the inn, she had thirsted for such intimacy. So the disappointment of Jonathan's betrayal was even greater a burden. She shook a little watching him, feeling as though someone had tied her to separate horses and began to swiftly rip her asunder. Even her breathing began to quicken its pace heatedly.

Red noticed. "Goldy?" she cooed softly.

The blonde held her gaze on Jonathan. "You know... If I shall regret anything, it is that I could not have him one more time," she said.

Red squinted her eyes in thought. "Was he really that good?"

"One of the best I've known." Goldy leaned in towards Red. "If I were not so cross, I might have given him a thrill amongst these trees," she whispered.

"Knowing his intent, he probably would have wanted both of us," Red retorted.

"Why stop there? He may have even demanded all three," Goldy smirked, turning her head and winking at Gretel.

Suddenly, Jonathan rose to his feet. He took his shirt from the adjacent tree branch and held it in front of him to cover his chest. With slightly off-balance steps, he made his way to the ladies determinedly. Goldy immediately rose when he approached.

"My dear Goldy, I have given the situation some thought," he said, still holding a damp shirt in front of him. "While my actions were uncouth, I must insist yours were twofold. And I only think it right that you apologize."

The blonde shifted her weight immediately and stood up tall. Her eyes locked on his, clearly challenging his audacity. "I would apologize if I actually regretted what I did," she huffed, her voice getting progressively louder. "And I find it very unlikely that you feel remorse for your actions; larking between two women thoughtlessly! You... you behave like a common whore," she forced herself into his face.

Jonathan backed away in reaction to her infuriated words but lost his footing over a protruding stone in the ground. He fell back awkwardly, and landed flat on his back in the grass. Red moved to help him purely out of reflex, but Goldy extended a hand to stop her. Jonathan raised himself onto his left elbow.

"Now see here, you infernal witch," he bellowed. However, without any real warning, the blonde jumped atop him and straddled him like a horse. With her hands placed firmly on his naked chest, she stared down at him rather wickedly. Her actions surprised him so much, he could only gaze up at her dumbfounded.

Her stare was intense and piercing. "Dear Jonathan, I believe if one acts like a whore, one should be treated like a whore," Goldy said, a vengeful glare in her eye.

Jonathan opened his mouth to say something but was immediately silenced by Goldy's lips. He inhaled quickly through his nose, his eyes widening in surprise as she forced herself on him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, but he barely pushed against her. His attempts to ward her off were clearly hesitant, as though he were unsure of his own desires. Goldy's hands moved from his chest to his wrists, easily forcing them down against the ground. Though Jonathan was no giant, he was significantly larger than Goldy. It was hard to believe that she had subdued him on her own.

Red tolerated the proceedings rather well, standing tall and stoic with increasingly ravenous eyes. Gretel looked on with nervous curiosity, peeking around Red as though she were hiding behind a tree. Neither of the two seemed to have any intentions of interrupting their friend.

Amidst this act of sin, there was a clear moment. It was as though a beast had been felled. Every muscle in Jonathan's body released at once. His eyes closed and his head willfully rested against the ground, receiving Goldy's advances obediently. It was hard to tell if he surrendered to appease his own twisted desires of objectification or if his inebriated state had drained him of his energy. But Goldy needed no specific reason. Such an act of surrender immediately awakened a warmth in her womanhood. She sat up on him, wiping away her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked over her shoulder at her friends. Red's chest was heaving, her posture bent slightly forward, as if in a fighter's stance. Gretel remained behind the innkeeper, seeking guidance in the situation though dealing with her own intense feelings as well. But there was clear enthusiasm in both. Either one just needed a push to set them off.

Goldy smiled, her cheeks beginning to blush at the idea in her head. "Red dear, when was the last time you straddled a man?"

The innkeeper inhaled through her nose long and deep. "Too long ago," she said, reaching to the ties on the back of her dress. With a few quick movements of her fingers, the gown loosened around her body and fell to the forest floor. With equally graceful movements, she removed her various undergarments until all that remained was her infamous red hood.

Goldy smiled and stood up, keeping one foot on Jonathan's chest as though to restrain him. The blonde removed her dress and let it slump to the ground. Red placed her own foot on Jonathan's chest so Goldy could finish undressing. It really was not necessary, considering Jonathan had given in entirely. In fact, watching the women above him undress caused a rising bulge in his knickers, a blunt declaration of his eagerness.

Red shook her head at him, watching his erection grow. "He really is quite the whore, isn't he," she spat.

"Obviously," Goldy returned after kicking her clothing to the side. "Plant yourself upon his arms, Red."

The innkeeper reached down and pulled his arms above his head. She then rested her knees upon them, successfully using her entire body weight to pin them to the ground. Her womanhood hovered inches just above his head, a sight he could not ignore. So while he was distracted by Red's proximity, Goldy pulled his knickers off and threw them aside. She sat down on his thighs, his erect member just in front of her. Feeling the added weight, Jonathan lifted his head up and looked to her.

"Goldy...," he began. But Red forced a hand over his mouth.

"You will not speak," she commanded crossly, now covering his mouth with both hands. She looked up at Goldy and nodded to her, as if they were working from some devious plan. The blonde smiled.

Suddenly, Jonathan's entire body tensed up and he moaned loudly against Red's hands. Goldy had a very good hold of him and was working his shaft in her hand. For once, he made a decent attempt to struggle, if only for a moment out of reaction. But Red held him, as did Goldy.

"Don't fight it, dear," Goldy said, sadistically tormenting him, "It will be so much easier if you just go along with it."

Red smiled as she watched Jonathan's face contort from the sensation, but suddenly she remembered there was someone not joining in the fun. She looked around for the third lady in their party. The woman in question had moved behind a nearby tree, no further than a few feet away. Gretel peeked out from behind it, as though she were a curious wood nymph spying on a pair of goddesses ravaging a mortal. She had already removed her own clothing. But still, a look of uncertainty and fear remained upon her face.

Red's eyes softened, pleased with Gretel's fervor even as tentative as it was. "Gretel dear, it is difficult to make love to a man with a tree between you," she said.

Gretel gasped a little upon being acknowledged. She blinked a few times, her eyes darting over the scene. But after a long breath, she swallowed hard and slowly inched out from behind the tree.

A pleased Red turned her attention back to Goldy. Watching the blonde's hand fervently move up and down Jonathan's shaft made Red grow rather agitated in her loins. "Goldy," she said, "Make haste before I am driven mad."

Goldy did not have to be told twice. She readied herself, rising up onto her knees and positioning Jonathan's affair accordingly. It seemed effortless. Inch by inch, she sat down upon him. A soft sigh escaped her lips, as though in relief. Red echoed her expression of liberation, her cheeks flushing light pink. Even Gretel, who had knelt down beside Jonathan's body, could not help but instinctually react to the lusty connection.

"How does he feel?" Red asked, her tone sultry and rich.

"Exquisite," Goldy breathed. With her hands planted on Jonathan's abdomen, she raised herself up and immediately fell back down. Considering her experience, it was easy for her to find a steady rhythm. Soon she was riding Jonathan as though she were lunging on a horse.

Red's hands remained on Jonathan's mouth, though it did not hinder him from moaning against them. She looked down at him as though she were annoyed. "Since you have been so adamant about using your mouth today, let us put it to good use," she stated firmly.

"He's quite a talent in that regard, trust me," Goldy immediately deciphered her intentions.

Red smiled villainously. "How delightful. This one has always held significant meaning to me," she said, removing her hands from his mouth.

He breathed out boisterously. But his freedom was short-lived. Without hesitation, Red straddled his face and forced her womanhood directly on his mouth, releasing his arms in the process. "Get to it," she commanded him.

There was no reluctance in the way he fervently began obeying the order. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, attempting to pull her closer. His tongue and lips moved over her wet flesh like he were starving for it. Goldy had not lied. He clearly knew what he was doing. For almost instantly, Red's breathing quickened in pace and even a few gasps escaped her lips. She leaned forward and put a hand on his chest to support herself. But though she was in the throngs of ecstasy, one thing had not escaped her attentions.

She looked to Gretel. The raven-haired lady still knelt beside Jonathan's body, almost shaking with anticipation. Her hand idled within her own loins, touching softly but obviously holding back. Her hesitancy was clear, and Red could not understand why her companion remained at odds with her own desires. She reached out and touched Gretel's arm to stop her.

"No, no. He will do that for you," she said. With that, she took one of his hands by the wrist and guided it to Gretel. The young German looked as though she were going to flee into the woods like a frightened deer when Jonathan's fingers grazed up against her parts. But even as he began his work rubbing up and down in a steady motion, she remained still. His hand began to shimmer with her wetness, so he let two fingers slide in. Gretel squealed partly out of anxiety and surprise, but she still did not move. Red smiled.

"Gretel dear, you must relax. Let him do the work," she grinned, her chest still heaving as Jonathan ravenously consumed her flesh below.

Goldy looked around at the scene unfolding. It was easily the most sensual sight she had ever encountered; she and her closest friends sharing an assailable man for their own sinful purposes. Deep within her, boiling up even past her lusty physical desires, was a hot-blooded emotion. For the first time in ages, she felt the thrill of unhindered power. The reins of control were in her hands. And it filled her with such fervor, she quickened her pace.

Her heightened enthusiasm spread to the other ladies, and soon all three were deeply enthralled with each unique sensation brought on by their willing slave. Each woman began to glow a rosy pink, heat engulfing their bodies.

Goldy moan out to the others. "I'm... coming to my end!" Her hips bucked so fast against him, his entire body lurched back and forward and the violent slapping sound of flesh on flesh rang out through the forest. Red and Gretel, almost in sync with Goldy, tightened as their own climaxes drew near.

Goldy gritted her teeth, her eyes clenched shut. "I can't hold it any longer," she wheezed out. And with one final push, her end came. She tightened up and cried out as the sensation pulsed through her body. And no sooner had Goldy finished, Gretel followed suit. Her body contorted forward and she shuddered uncontrollably. The two ladies rolled aside to rest, leaving only Red. Feeling the other women leave him, Jonathan desperately held onto Red's thighs as though satisfying her would bring his own climax. And with all energy focused on Red, he quickly brought her to her peak. After a minute or two of reveling in her exhilarating end, Red removed herself from Jonathan. He stared straight up, his chest heaving wildly. The ladies had cruelly left him without an end of his own, but that did not seem to matter. His body and spirit were equally as spent. And now he was left used and cast aside. His eyes began to close, heavy from exhaustion. And as the world grew black, the last thing to be seen were three blurry figures looking down at him. Three daunting forms fading into darkness; raven locks, yellow curls, and a cape as red as blood.

* * *

_Missed me? Terribly sorry about the extended hiatus, but my real life career in the entertainment industry has recently kicked off and has stolen away my time and energy. But with a little free time on my hands, I am back by popular demand. Enjoy this chapter! Hopefully the next one won't take me a year to write. _


	33. Awake

Jonathan opened his eyes. Some time had passed, he could tell. His body felt very stiff. He blinked twice, but it triggered a sharp headache in his temples; forcing him to clench his eyes shut again. Too much wine, he thought to himself. He groaned and sat up very slowly. His own shirt was placed over him like a blanket. Trying to get his head together, he looked around. The pile of ashes that had once been his fire was beside him. It looked as though it went out a while ago. Voices caught his attention. And when he looked to them, things became clear and yet confusing all at once.

The three ladies sat in their original spot, twenty yards or so from him. The scene of them together was enough to bring everything back to him in a flash; how they used him and treated him like their personal prostitute. His cheeks grew hot in a flurry of emotions. He did not know whether to be grateful for such a sensual experience or downright infuriated. But what confounded him the most was that all three ladies were fully dressed and chatted amongst each other like nothing had happened. He looked down at himself. His white drawers had been returned to him. In fact, he had been moved back to the fire, a fair few paces from where the ordeal had occurred.

Jonathan blinked several times in confusion. Was there a chance that nothing had occurred at all? Had it all been a wine-induced dream? Impossible! He remembered it so vividly, every feeling and detail.

He scrambled to his feet, making enough noise for the ladies to finally notice him. They immediately grew silent and turned their eyes to him all at once. Their collective gaze was rather unnerving considering he stood before them with little more than a pair of knickers on. Jonathan held his shirt to his chest, awkwardly staring back at them. His mouth hung open slightly as if he intended to say something. But for all his linguistic skills, no words would form on his tongue. His mind struggled to even weave together a complete thought. If he was to confront these women on what happened, how would he even start?

"If your clothes are sufficiently dry, Mr. Pierce, please dress so that we may return to the inn," Red broke the silence.

Jonathan stammered a bit. "I... I... excuse me?"

"We wish to return to the inn. We've been waiting a long time for you to wake, and the sun will be setting soon," she stated very blankly.

"N-now... wait a minute," Jonathan struggled to spit out. "All of you! See here!"

A few confused glances were thrown between the ladies.

"Now... all of you have some nerve sitting there like nothing happened," he pointed a finger at them.

Red sighed and looked upwards in exasperation. Whatever measures the innkeeper had taken to calm Goldy were about to be all for not. The blonde rose to her feet angrily, staring down Jonathan.

"Mr. Pierce," she stated, her irritation boiling up through her composure, "In light of your adulterous actions, you really have no room to point fingers at me for merely pushing you into the river."

Jonathan stood awestruck and dumbfounded at her audacious statement. Did this woman actually have the insolence to overlook what she and the other two had done to him? His eyes darted for a moment, still having small luck in spitting out his words.

"You... you think... pushing me into the river?! You detestable streetwalker! How dare you brush aside your actions! All three of you! I remember what happened," Jonathan yelled at them.

Again, the women looked to each other for clarification. Not one amongst them seemed to understand his words or actions. He continued his ravings.

"The three of you held me against the ground and forced me to perform sexually for each of you... at the same time!" he blurted out thoughtlessly, "It just happened!"

A collective look of shock and disgust came over the ladies. Gretel's mouth hung open rather humorously and Goldy's eyes fluttered a bit in reaction. Overall, they were so thrown by the suggestion that not one of them had a thing to say. Jonathan took their silence as fear of being caught and continued while he still had the courage. He looked to Goldy.

"You took advantage of my impairment and encourage these two to join you," he accused while pointing at Red and Gretel. "Each of you used me like some common whore! I have a mind to report you trollops to the law immediately!"

He stood and breathed angrily, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. The ladies no longer looked sickened by his mad rantings but rather hopelessly puzzled. Gretel leaned in towards the other two. "He's completely lost his mind."

Red kept her eyes on Jonathan. "Or doesn't realize he was dreaming."

Jonathan scoffed and tried to find his words again. But he was interrupted. Goldy stepped closer. Jonathan moved to protect himself from her, refusing to let the preceding events repeat.

"Mr. Pierce, perhaps you were too drunk to remember what happened," her words dripped like poison, "You passed out cold while drying off, nearly falling into the fire. Madame Primrose moved you away from harm and put that shirt over you. We've been waiting hours for you to wake so you could return with us. And now you come to from some sort of scandalous dream and have the temerity to insist we were involved in your depraved fantasy?!"

Jonathan blinked and his brow furrowed.

"Mr. Pierce," Red stood and interrupted calmly, "I am one to forgive someone for an accident or clumsy lack of social grace. But considering your unsavory actions earlier today and now this, I fear I am quick to reassess your character. Perhaps you are not the man I thought you were. Perhaps you were never a real gentleman at all."

Jonathan's insides twisted up inside of him. Red's stare was one of cold revilement, like an unfeeling queen ready to imprison her own traitorous child. Goldy looked on with her arms crossed over her chest, seeming as though she were just tired of the whole ordeal. And poor Gretel could only observe innocently, having no power in this raging battle.

"But... I...," Jonathan stumbled over himself, "I am certain it happened."

But he looked over the women. There was no hair out of place, no wrinkle in their clothing. They seemed virtually unchanged. And all three were confident, never casting their eyes aside or fidgeting suspiciously. With the circumstances and evidence piled against him, Jonathan felt himself being backed into a corner.

"As far as I am concerned, you've struck the final nail in your coffin," Goldy huffed, bending down and picking up the picnic basket. "If you wish to make a fool of yourself further by letting everyone know you are a perverted bastard, be my guest. They'll think you no better than the scoundrel that attacked Miss Eberly."

She straightened her dress and turned on her heels. "Ladies, I've had my fill of Mr. Pierce's company. I am returning to the inn. You are welcome to join me."

With that she took a few steps into the trees. Red followed her without a second thought. Gretel watched them go for a moment, looked to Jonathan apprehensively, then quickly moved to catch up with her companions. Realizing he was about to lose his only sure way back to the inn, Jonathan snatched up his clothing and clumsily dressed himself while trying to keep pace with the women ahead of him. All the while, his thoughts whipped around in a maelstrom of confusion. He replayed the event in his mind several times over. It was not exactly an unpleasant experience physically. His pride had merely been hurt by the ruthlessness of the women. But then again, if pride had been a part of the equation, he never would have given in in the first place. He had to admit. Being the sexual plaything for three beautiful women was something only his unruliest dreams could conjure up. So maybe it really had been a dream. And accusing the ladies of such a vulgar act cost him his last shred of dignity in their eyes.

Jonathan's cheeks began to grow hot at these many doubtful thoughts. He had been in the company of three extraordinary women of class and successfully made a complete ass of himself not only once but twice. He knew now. No one would know of what happened, at least not until he figured it out for himself. Besides, what would it say of his pride if he openly admitted that three women had forced him into sex.

He had been so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he almost did not notice the inn in the distance. The ladies had been silent the entire trip back, each more angry than the other no doubt. So when they approached the terrace entrance, he made no attempt to bid the ladies adieu. He just continued walking, his eyes cast towards the ground. But a hand on his chest stopped him. He looked up to find his hostess, Madame Primrose. She looked him very squarely in the eyes; so intensely that Jonathan could not hold her gaze for long.

"Mr. Pierce. Even in light of what happened today, I still consider you a valued guest. The services you receive will not be affected by the events that took place. I trust you will utilize all that my inn has to offer to make your stay more pleasant," she stated.

And there it was, the professional guise. He had lost her to it entirely. The wall he had tried to tear down between them had now been fortified. No hope was left. "I am sorry," he could barely speak. "Please send my apology to Miss Locks and Miss Eberly. I hope we could all try to..."

Red interrupted him. "Considering all that occurred, I feel it is best our two parties politely avoided each other for the time being. Wouldn't you agree?"

He looked down defeatedly. "Yes. I suppose so. Goodbye, Madame Primrose."

"Goodbye, Mr. Pierce. My steward will deliver a complimentary bottle of wine to your room later." And with that, she turned and returned to her two companions. The three ladies walked into the inn, leaving a very sorrowful and humiliated Jonathan on the terrace. Goldy glanced sideways at Red as they walked up the stairs. The innkeeper carried herself as she always did, like a sturdy mountain. Gretel was in lower spirits and walked with her eyes cast stubbornly on the floor. A heaviness hung over them, one she had never experienced in their company. Such unrest only fueled the coiled emotions inside of her. And when they reached Red's suite, she could not wait to open the door.

"Do you suppose he will tell anyone?" Goldy immediately asked as soon as she heard the door shut.

"No," Red stated confidently, "He seemed convinced it was a dream. Besides, no one would even believe him. And he knows better than to call his own manhood and pride into question by claiming three women defiled him."

"Did we really do that? Could I really have such impulses within me to do that," Gretel asked aloud as she sat down on the bed.

"Our heads were not about us," Goldy explained. "We all were fevered with wine."

Red's brow furrowed. A look of guilt lined her face. Perhaps such an idea were true for Goldy and Gretel, but Red knew her actions were entirely her own. And now, she wondered what it was that finally pushed her into such fierce actions. She looked to her companions. They seemed shaken. And after all that went on, they must be feeling less than fresh.

"Ladies," she said to them, "A bath, then dinner."


End file.
